Had Bell and Watson Not Tried
by wanderingjaded
Summary: They were both liars who cheated their lives by living with half truths and silence. He accepted it because he was selfish and knew it was the only way but he was selfish and would always want more. Post-war, EWE, & slight OOC. Rating for language later
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

General Notes: I started this as a vague idea and I know I'm in the habit of never picking an ending that I like so be warned that the ending you expect might not be within any of the chapters to come. Given that, if you like this story, I've written about a dozen chapters and it's a downhill rolling snowball trying to get to the bottom.

Bear with if you see formatting and general errors as I tend to write sporadically through my bursts of time and thought.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 1**

_I'll see you then. _No, they never spoke such trite. Maybe, if she thought back far enough, maybe once upon a time one if not both of them bothered to say goodbye to the other. No, she sat at the table staring out the window as he dressed. She could see his reflection in the mirror to her left and could see what her mind knew.

He had gotten the owl just barely an hour ago and from a hurried attempt to respond to the realization that he was required, she knew he was going. He only bothered to respond when it was truly important. Their time together was limited enough as it was, the fact that someone was foolish enough reach him was problem enough. No, truly life requiring matters interrupted their time. She didn't bother to inquire, his work was important, his life was what mattered to him and this moment of theirs was an afterthought. She was just as guilty and for how much they both treated it as second best in their respective lives, she kept hers a more guarded secret that he could know.

A piece of buttered toast hung between his lips as he finished getting his things together. She saw him throw a few things here and there into his bag. It was an extended weekend they had set aside but after two days, he had received the owl that couldn't and wouldn't be ignored.

Had things been different, she would've found reasons to be angry but she wasn't. She knew that she was just as likely to leave him if the missive came for her. It was getting more frequent for either of them to get such missives calling them back. On some occasions, they had both received the call back to reality within hours of each other. No, it was just him called back this time.

She could remember a time where he would ignore it. He would tell the owl to leave as he couldn't be bothered and could care less to respond. Their youth had let them have such luxuries. Now after all these years and the responsibilities of their lives packed on, it wasn't an option to do so.

He sighed.

His youthful face was scrunched up as he gave a last check to the damage he had done in his haste. At best they only packed for a weekend away. Neither ever brought anything with them that was important or telling of the world they left behind, it simply wouldn't do. Even if he forgot something, she couldn't see it being so important that he couldn't replace. Everything in his life was replaceable, even her. She saw the gossip rags on her daily walks to work, there was always someone in his life. He was never without company of some kind if he was truly bored.

It was a given that she knew, but it was also a given she simply didn't and wouldn't ask. He was with her when he wanted to and not with them. If he wanted to be with someone else, he would be.

The rush of having him for a few days at a time was a silly euphoria in her youth, a fling while on vacation from her regular life. He was bright, he kept her on her toes but given reality, the fantasy of a few days was better than the truth of what she was doing with him.

`Click`

He had left with the closing of the door.

No parting kisses.

No lingering goodbye.

No promise of another time or a chance to make it up to her.

No, that youthful hope of something else was gone.

They had striped their relations to the basics of what they were.

A fantasy from the reality.

If only everything were that much worse, maybe one of them would try to change things.

No, reality was survivable and tolerable, why rock that boat with this one?

She waited a decent time before giving the room a quick once over herself. She hadn't even got far in taking anything out of her own bag. A dress for dinner last night, some essentials in the bathroom and a few stray articles of clothing. Their four day weekend was literally cut in half.

Pulling out her wand, she summoned them all back in her bag. She would sort them out once she was home.

Like him, she sighed and gave the room a once over. Magic made sure she got it all but that didn't stop her from wanting a visual.

Nodding, she picked up the phone by the nightstand and called the front desk.

"Yes, I'd like to check out please."

The desk clerk reviewed the room information with her before asking if she had a good stay.

"It was lovely."

She could hear the clicking as they typed something into the computer fulfilling her request.

"Yes, Malfoy." She was tempted to spell it as the clerk took his time in verifying the information.

"No, I don't really care about the rest of the reservation." She doubted Draco would care or notice if he would be charged for the half day they had used.

"No, the spa reservation is not to be billed with the room." It was the one concession to their time away, she would pamper herself usually at the spa of whatever place they stayed at before she left. It was her treat to herself that had nothing to do with him.

"Yes, Lagrange. No, the name on the card is Hermione Granger." She never made her reservations under her real name. Sadly, when it came to the bill, there was no way to avoid the usage of her real name. "I will settle that when I leave."

It was a few more minutes and she had effectively checked them out.

Shrinking her bag, she exited the room for her treat.

She could use a few hours of forgetting.

She needed to forget she had come here with him.

She needed to forget he had left.

She needed to forget so she could remember why she ever came with him at all.

Jean Lagrange.

She lived for all her life Hermione Granger.

For her moments of fantasy, she was Jean Lagrange.

It was a byproduct of her life that she would carry a cloak and dagger element about her. Mad-eye Moody's constant vigilance was ingrained into her. She had taken to going into the muggle world under an assumed name when she ventured alone. She glamoured her looks with heavy dose of disillusion charms in order to appear different while also giving an air of forget me not to those who might think her changed look was familiar. It was after the war when her parents were finally returned to English soil and she was home with them. In that time, she cultivated her doubled appearance. Without Harry or Ron flanking her moves, she was just one witch trying to live when the world was rebuilding.

Her parents were readjusting to their return, life was back to the way it was before the war but they were still unsettled. In their eyes, their little girl had fought in a war while they lived the carefree life. They had a hard time reconciling war heroine with the girl they went on trips to the library with and worried about being bullied in school. So, she took time out her life to enjoy time with them.

She spent the summer after Hogwarts helping air out the house and getting settled. She had asked her university to defer her start for a year while she took classes at a muggle institution. It gave her time to be nearer her parents while still moving on from the war as well.

It was then that Jean and Draco met.

She had just left from her dinner with Harry and Ron only to drift about Muggle London aimlessly that night. In a very much unguarded moment, she forgot she was a witch and fancied herself some Fresher out for the night. There would always be an element of danger in wandering the streets at night for any female or person for that matter. So when he had stumbled into her from the alleyway, she was panicked.

She had figured that in her moment of weakness, she was caught by some stray Death Eater or their sympathizer. Instead she had been stumbled into a tipsy Draco Malfoy. He gave an apology to his clumsy moment before giving her a once over.

Maybe hindsight rewrote what had happened but it was after she hid the lingering sign of her wand into her boot did he give her a more through once over before offering to treat her to a drink for his accident.

It was surreal, the thought that Draco Malfoy would take her for a drink much less an apology drink.

Accepting that part of her was too paranoid, she went along with the drink offer. If anything, she would have a silent laugh at how things changed with time.

He seemed to genuinely make an effort to chat her up that night despite her veiled efforts to steer him off. For all he could know, she was a squib or muggle and there in that bar, she gave little away aside from the basics she gave any other muggle she interacted with.

The more they talked the more he pushed for a dinner the next night. Maybe it was his charm, maybe it was the novelty of the situation or maybe she just drank too much that night but she agreed. To add an air of the muggle world, she gave him her mobile number. If anything, it would cement to him she was not some pureblood and some element of her lived in the muggle world.

Part of her didn't expect him to call her. Part of her pegged him to give up based on the fact that he would actually have to call her.

So sometime midday when she had waited the appropriate amount of time before accepting that she did a good job of driving him off, he called her.

She saw the unknown number and gave a good pause before answering.

His admittance of never having to call a girl was unusually endearing enough that she showed up to dinner with him at a muggle restaurant near school.

By the third date, he knew more about her than just the basics she told others in passing. Of course, by the third date, he had more than realized she was a muggleborn and had yet to make a sneer or disparaging remark to her in that respect.

So, maybe it was more than charm that had her taking him home for the night.

So when she admitted that she didn't know much about him or things Malfoy, she was lying in the truth. She never did really get to know him from Hogwarts and same of his family. All she knew was in passing and in war but that did not make to knowing someone. She was sure part of him didn't believe her but he never pushed on that. Despite some telling of slight details, he never seemed to dig into her past and the potential they knew each other.

He had known she was at Hogwarts at some point in time. Occasionally, she gave away a tell to reveal what year and house she was in but he never asked and she never gave more.

A few dates splattered here and there after and he drew the conclusion that she was a witch who reformed back to the muggle world out of choice.

Maybe it was in the fact that she gave so little that he did the same.

Nothing about what path they followed created a deep deep meaningful real relationship.

At least not one where you introduced each other to your best mates or took someone home to the parents.

No, her friends and family weren't clueless enough to believe she wasn't seeing someone. They simply assumed what they could. Harry and Ron and anyone magical thought she had met some muggle who she hadn't gotten to telling she was a witch. As for her parents they assumed she was seeing a wizard and was weaning him to all things muggle. Even her flatmate didn't inquire too much into his quirks or her future with him.

So, when her year at the muggle university was over, she hung on the fence. She never asked where they were going and he never pushed for anything.

If anything, as time grew, he went from her bit of fun to her bit of spoiling.

When she started university to be a healer, her life took a turn. She was more often than not stressed and pushed to strive for something more. She had less time for anything but school and that included him along with her family and friends. In some respect, her family and friends thought he had dropped out of her life, permanently or temporarily, she never established.

They didn't have to know him to know that she was simply too busy for a continued relationship.

He knew it.

He had called many a times only to have her not answer or give a time so far off it might have seemed like she was pushing him off. So they moved onto a relationship of whenever possible rather than any given time.

So a few stolen hours here and there made for the need for a few stolen days wherever she had time. The quaint dinners and meetings moved onto getaways of decadence.

She never asked for more from him as it didn't seem fair given the bed of lies and half truths she started with him. She never planned for a future given that she hadn't a plan of giving him the half he didn't ask for. He had known from the start she was half there and he never pushed for more. So with time, they saw each other less and less. As the years grew, and his life outside of her grew, so did hers.

They never spoke of some benchmark in either of their lives where things could change for them, at least not for more. It all walked the path where one day, their real lives would end it all. One day, he would wake and choose work or something else rather than meet her. Just as she saw herself picking something else over him one day and not knowing if it was for the better of worse when that day came.

So, for their time together, she was someone else. Someone who was fine with that life with him flitting in and out like she did.

When she left, she lied to herself that she had taken personal time and the details didn't matter. A bit of pampering from him and some on her own and she mingled the two enough to pretend that what mattered didn't and it would be fine one day.


	2. Chapter 2

Well I originally wrote this as a personal exorcising of an idea and yet am now posting chapter 2 out of the 25 I've gotten down. Sadly at chapter 25, I know it's maybe halfway through at best but as luck would have it, I might have an ending to get to so half might not be a conservative estimation. Oh wells, enjoy this chapter if you can and depending on how much more procrastinating I do, maybe chapter 3 might be up within the day. I could blame revising as the reason or the fact that I'm missing out on being at the premiere for classes.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 2**

Maybe it was habit on her part or his lack of interest but she never gave away too much for him to see past the glamour and charm to see signs of who she was underneath. He never paused to say he knew in any way that Jean was someone he knew. He never pushed for some telling detail to piece it all together. So when they were both at Flourish and Botts days earlier, neither gave any sign that they had anything more. She had made her purchase while he went to find his. Neither one paused to say a greeting or to inquire about the weekend. Neither one bothered to cross the distance other than a slight scan of their eyes as they went about their reality. In Hermione's public world, Draco Malfoy was just an old schoolmate of a different house.

Her parents didn't ask when she called unexpectedly to say she would visit on her day off, they were use to their daughter being busy with work and even the days off were precious and a mystery. She had shown up with her bag and freshly scrubbed down and massaged to oblivion ready to remember that this was her life.

* * *

Draco gave it a good stare. He willed it to stop being the reason he was annoyed.

No, magic in any sense of it wouldn't imbue itself into his request and make it so. He had waited for years for a sign, something to give him a reason and now he wanted that sign to go away.

He had promised himself a year ago that he wouldn't do it again. The strain and effort was too much and he simply wouldn't again if it happened. So, instead he sat at his desk overlooking his work for the day willing the reason of his annoyance to stop mocking him. He had come to the office and per usual placed the inconspicuous paperweight among the clutter he kept. It was out of the way enough that no one could touch, a lesson he learned three incarnations ago. No, he didn't need another visitor making friendly with his personal space and tossing his things, especially this object.

No, this time it was Blaise's fault and any other time with any other problem, he would have his friend fix it. Unfortunately, he simply couldn't do so. How could he? There was no way to explain to his friend that he was still seeing Jean. There was no way to explain that she lived in the muggle world without explaining what he couldn't explain.

Draco couldn't even explain to himself how he could go all these years living his life while completely compartmentalizing her.

Could he tell anyone he was ashamed of her? No, not when he couldn't see what he was ashamed of.

Could he tell anyone that things were fine between them the way they were? No, not when he knew the stasis was inherently wrong and forced but possibly the only way they continued to be.

So, the stare was at the now broken mobile as the life left it. He had watched as the battery drained over the course of the week.

He had returned to the office to meet Blaise in order to respond to a legal matter that he thought they had put to bed before he left. He was sure he didn't miss a detail when he left the office to meet her. He had let work leave him when he woke the next morning to her. It was the morning after that the owl came. His father was not pleased with his work. The man had sent him a laundry list of things he expected fixed before Monday and he was to be back to do it. The senior Malfoy didn't appreciate how his son compromised to get the deal down in words and thought it put the wrong side at an advantage. So Draco spent time he didn't want to spend appeasing his father's request. Draco could have had Blaise work on the terms but Blaise was not as familiar with the project so Draco had to return no matter what.

So given a long weekend of work to please Lucius Malfoy's requests, he was due to celebrate. While his first choice was her, he knew it wasn't an option. He could've asked but wasn't in the mood to let reality slam him in the face. He had left early from their weekend and he didn't doubt she found something else to occupy her time. He also didn't doubt that if she found something pressing to occupy her time, she would be less than receptive to his request to meet. Being left once was bad, his not going back immediately was another point against him. He didn't dare risk try to interrupt her time and risk the chance that one of them would be interrupted again. They might have taken time out where they could but the days of fighting for time left them some years ago.

So instead he had opted to go out with Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise.

If anything he had traded one bad idea for another. Instead of trying for an actual response that she wouldn't be able to see him, he traded a drunken night out full of drinks and in that instance, bar fight. Somewhere in his drinking, one of his friends chose to chat up the wrong woman and her date took great offense and so did his friends. Between attempts to miss being on the receiving end of a fist, his mobile took the hit for him.

It wasn't till he woke the next morning that he saw the damage. It wasn't simply a cracked screen. He had lived through a cracked screen. No, the bottom of the casing was cracked as well and that was where the charging component was. He stared at the dying power bar instead of having breakfast that morning cursing his luck. He hoped in vain over the course of the week that it was some electronic glitch. Maybe, it was charging and couldn't display such and maybe he wouldn't test his own promise to himself.

He knew better.

It was dying and the only solution was to replace it. If he wanted to keep his lifeline to her, he would replace the thing.

If he wanted to see her again, he would have to go into the muggle shop.

If he wanted to talk to her again, he would have to trek among the muggles alone.

If he wanted to hold her again, he would have to listen to some prat rattle on about features and pricing schemes.

If he wanted more time to figure out if it was the end, he would have to.

* * *

Grabbing his cloak, he waved a hand at his assistant to say he was leaving for the day. Let her figure out how to fix his problems at work for a few hours.

He had bigger problems, like being a liar to himself.

It was a hassle but he stopped at Gringotts to withdraw muggle currency, after this past weekend, his supply was draining as it was. If it was a bear to deal with goblins, he only equated muggle salespeople as one notch worse. It was as if they knew he wanted to get out as fast as he could and found every possible detail to keep him there. This of course being after he had to wait for his turn during the peak of the day's traffic.

He must have had some attachment to her. It was his only reasoning for ever going into the muggle world repeatedly whether or not she was with him.

Whatever it was, it was his only explanation why he didn't push things further than they were. He knew she kept him compartmentalized like he did her. He was an inherently selfish man and there wasn't a person alive that didn't know that truth about him. He knew she knew he was selfish, it was the only way he could justify seeing her. In their dynamic, it was either he saw her under the terms they silently established or not at all. In theory, it was a hassle to go out of his way to see her but at the same time, she didn't ask much of him. She never forced him to some work dinner or ply him to be nice to friends or family he had no interest in meeting or cared to bother with. Somehow they had managed over the years to selfishly establish a relationship that was focused on only each other. It was the little life reminders that got in the way and ruined their time together. She had learned to accept that his work or family would call him back to reality every now and then. Like her, he had accepted that what he didn't know would be fine in ignorance. He had lingering suspicions but he never dared to pry. The answers that came evident with time was too damning for him to ever ask for confirmation.

He knew she knew of him, he didn't doubt she could easily read of his life in _The Prophet_ or any other rag. He knew that while his private life outside of them was readily accessible to her if she wished via the gossip of second hand accounts. He knew she was hiding from him. He knew she wasn't who she said she was. He knew she was a persona of the person underneath it all. He simply didn't ask where he knew the answers were too potentially damning. If she had been out for revenge or blackmail, she had years of ammunition and yet to do a thing to him. No, she simply didn't want more than what they had.

He had checked once upon a time for Jean among the records of Hogwarts. She didn't exist within those walls as Jean. There was no mistaking that she was at Hogwarts with him, she knew things offhandedly that couldn't have been passed on from another source, the clarity and comfort in her knowledge was of true personal experience. If anything, he was sure she was never in Slytherin. As he never made friends with the other houses, he couldn't and wouldn't ever bother his former classmates to point her out of their house. Given their time together, he had nothing to gain by finding out who she truly was. He wasn't the one who might invoke any warm reaction from other houses and the likelihood she was friends with someone who had a deep grudge against him, he would only make problems for her.

The potential of who she was and what she was outside of them was too vast and more damaging than the stasis they maintained.

* * *

"And this one has a feature to…" Draco tried his best to tune out the poor sales boy who tried to talk up the model that was in his hand. He honestly didn't need anything aside from the function to contact her. He had stated he just needed something that worked. He tried his best sneer and aura of disdain for the whole process only for the boy to prattle on about differences from previous models and its counterparts. He really wanted to punch the prat for not taking the hint.

"There's video chat on this as well but you'll need to add a data plan…" He honestly wanted to hit his head against a brick wall at that.

He didn't need video of her in her real life. Why the hell would he ever ask to see her in her daily environment? Why the hell would he ever want to see proof of the life she led outside of him? Outside of them?

A few more reiterations of telling the boy he didn't care for the features and just needed something durable and he really could care less, he had finally saw the home stretch of the process. He was close to leaving, close to forgetting that he broke his promise to himself. The longer it took, the more he remembered the last time he made the effort and why he made the promise in the first place.

In the end, he justified that it would be rude to not replace the phone. It was rude if he didn't have a way for her to communicate with him.

It simply wasn't done for him to end things via a dead mobile.

So he was only being a decent man by replacing the dead one.

He mentally scoffed at the thought of how he was a decent man.

He was a manipulative, selfish, entitled prat on a normal day and downright rude and demanding beyond reason on top of it all on a bad day.

* * *

By the time he had finished the task and weaved his way out of muggle London back to the Manor, he was met with the heavy realization that he had done it again.

It wasn't just that he broke his promise to let things go with the broken phone.

He had told himself he would have let her go a year ago.

He remembered looking upon her one morning wondering why she still met him. He didn't fool himself with some thought about love and he knew they stopped being convenient too many years ago. He didn't think too hard about the why till later that morning when it struck him that maybe the reason why they didn't speak of the future wasn't just for lack of want of change but the fact that he might not have any future with her at all if he asked.

The suspicions that Jean's wants for the future might be radically different and crushing to his, he was getting to the point where the rest of his life was coming upon him. He might not have entertained some happily ever after with her but he didn't want to find that when the time came, she wouldn't be that person. He hated the thought that the years were a potential waste. He had the lingering thought that he was being selfish for naught.

He had known their real lives were weighing down.

The signs were creeping in over the years, the pressure of life that was outside of them. It wasn't just an argument that he was seeing a witch who chose to live as a muggle. It would be simple if that was all that he had to reason out. If that was all it was, then he only had to choose between her or not her.

No, it was all the little things that made a relationship a relationship that wasn't theirs.

No, it was the fact that they never met at their respective homes anymore.

At the start, he picked her up at her flat and even met the silly muggle roommate of hers that first year.

She even stayed the night at his London flat a few times after it was too late to go home.

Now, it was the fact that they spent more time in locations further from their homes. There weren't any quick lunches at the café at the corner from her flat or a quick stop at the shop for stupid things like milk for her tea.

It was as if they started at the height of any relationship and worked backwards.

She had used to listen and ask about his work, his family, his life, hell even his day and in turn he did the same.

Somewhere along the way, they stopped asking about each other. They stopped prying about each other, it was for preservation that they stopped doing so.

What good was it to tell her about the women his mother found for him to date? He didn't date those women long and he wasn't ready to settle down like his mother wished. He wasn't at the point of his life where a proper marriage was a necessity or remotely enticing. It wasn't a matter of wanting to be single but a matter of not needing company to the point of marriage.

If he needed company, if he needed companionship in some remote fashion of the female persuasion, he had Jean.

For that alone, he stopped asking where she was in life.

He had no desire to know anymore.

He knew that she was done with school some time ago.

He remembered the bouts of her imparting knowledge of the body and whatnot. Given his limited knowledge of the muggle world, he had never made the connection if she was healer or some muggle doctor. For all he knew she was a healer in the muggle world.

Like her, he knew she must have dated someone outside of him every now and then but he knew whoever she saw had no bearing on their relationship.

For all he knew, she had married so muggle man who was in the dark about him. While he didn't see it as a truth, he knew it was a possibility that she could have some guy she went home to that wasn't him. If anything, he was certain she hadn't any children given the timeframe they saw each other, he would more than notice if she had ever had children.

No, his ideal image was that like him, she was career driven and he was an after thought.

His fear was that the lack of knowledge was an acknowledgement of truths he didn't listen to.

After all, it wasn't just that their time now was her free hour during work for a late lunch or something part of the norm. No, as time passed, they had settled for trips away. A resort or hotel somewhere different each time but within range that even he could go home with ease and same of her he would assume.

He had remembered once she was called back to work and he had been a prat to ask if it was her husband only to be asked if he cared.

Would he care if she was married with children somewhere?

He knew that even if she did one day, he would still see her if she asked.

It would be when she stops that he would care.

He had yet to see a circumstance in which either would make the call to stop the whole thing.

What would be the final straw for them? He wasn't sure what he wanted, did he need a scandal of blazing details or something trivial to stop it all?


	3. Chapter 3

So at some point in my sleepy writing I deleted half of chapter 4 and now feel stupid for it. The part I deleted isn't too important and I could just splice chapter 4 with chapter 5 but it just don't seem right. Oh wells. Enjoy this one.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Answered**

**Chapter 3**

He had never been in love.

He knew he hadn't been in love.

Love was the scene of Pansy and Blaise celebrating their fifth anniversary with friends.

Love was the way Blaise let Pansy take playful jibes at him among friends.

Love was Blaise leaving the office a few minutes early to get her flowers any given day.

Love was Pansy coming to the office to have dinner with Blaise when they worked late.

Love was the thing that comingled with companionship. It was the cinnamon on top of the coffee.

Love would be knowing who Jean was when they weren't together.

Love would be if she popped round on her free nights.

No, he wasn't in love.

Love was too damning to him and she had too much respect for them to love him and him her the way they were.

Throwing his tie atop the bed, he knew what love could be.

Love might have been the way she use to sit on his bed in the morning wearing his tie to pretie it for him while he was in the shower.

Infatuation was the way he would stop into Honeydukes for sweets to keep in the kitchen if he knew she might be by.

Romance were those terrible picnics they use to go to years ago in some failed attempt to see some show in the park. They always arrived late and via fate and timing, they never had a good spot and never could see the show they planned for. No, romance was the fact that they stilled enjoyed the sheer act of it all.

No, he left the chance for love behind years ago for selfishness.

Love was that window where he would push to know.

Love was that time where he might have wanted more.

Love was the answers to knowing who she was after all these years.

Love was knowing for a fact if she was married or just married to her job or just liked life without him.

Love was knowing if given the choice if she would choose him or her life outside of them.

No, selfishness was not asking.

Selfishness was the act of not knowing, the need to stay ignorant enough that things continued however they can.

Desperation was his treks into the muggle shops each time the mobile broke or needed some kind of fix.

Yielding to ignorance was his monthly payment for a mobile that he only used for her.

Willpower became the way he didn't rage against the fact that one device was his link to her. He had tried years ago to send her owls and found that she had enchanted herself to the point that unless he knew who she really was, his owl would not find her.

Dread was the fear why she hid so readily.

Fear was the knowledge that even he hadn't gained a level of trust to know enough of who she was to understand her fear of discovery.

He had known that she hid herself during and after the war out of a need for her own personal safety. She had mentioned her family and the worries of what could happen to her or those in her life. So in that he knew she had some hand in the war efforts.

Fear was hearing every now and then of those she treated who were still targeted for their blood. Even now, once every once in a while she would still have a face of silent acceptance that the hate in some would never go away. She never asked how he felt of blood status but she didn't look hurt at the thought of him. He could only assume she knew he didn't care.

So he dreaded to know that somewhere out there it would be her one day. He dreaded to know that one day, she would more than just hurt and he wouldn't know. He would be left in limbo unless the one device passed on the information to him.

Anger was her mentioning in passing that she had once worked with some pureblood who made a few attempts to sabotage her work. She never told him of things as they happened. No, she waited till the event passed and settled to tell him. It robbed him of offering to step in on her behalf. Worse was her telling of how someone else did the stepping in where he could or would have.

She had always been grateful in her stories of those who stepped up for her but most of the time it was evident that she felt like it was a crutch. She had a headstrong need to be self-sufficient. She wanted to earn her place in life, she wanted to prove herself without someone to back her name.

She would nod when he mentioned of how his name could open doors for him but she never once wished for it. She never inquired if he knew anyone in any given area. She would make her own way in her life and she wouldn't ride on his coattails.

It was evident there was someone else in her life who she once rode the coattails of by proxy rather than need or want of. Whoever it was or what the situation was, she had learned that she didn't care for the practice. Jean had likened the link to someone famous as test of endurance for fame and she hadn't the endurance for it.

So, he accepted that she was willfully independent. He was reassured that she would not rely on him like a parasite but feared she would one day become independent enough to not need to see him again. Since he had little she wanted and given little since she asked for nothing but his time, it made him feel useless and he could only wait till she cut him out of her life.

It had only reassured him that should that happen, it was something universal and not something that applied to him. After all, she had watch as her friends married and started families but never pose the need to get to that stage of her life. She was content with how things were.

* * *

_Ping__._

He had been up late looking over a proposal when he heard it.

Draco had been use to her messages at odd times.

He never complained at the lack of consistency since he was left with the right to return the favor.

_How are you set for dinner Thursday? I don't have to be in till Friday night._

It was rare but once in a while she would ask for a day or so.

He had a minor meeting early Friday morning but if he timed it right, he could pop out for the meeting and be back before she woke that morning. The last bit would mainly depend on how long of a week she had.

_I'll meet you at the Stag's Head in Wiltshire. I might have to pop out in the morning to handle something in the office but I'm free._

He wasn't prone to take extended time away from work during the week but it wasn't uncommon for him to forgo going into the office and working out of home.

_Put the work down and go to sleep then._

He smiled at that. She obviously didn't expect him up. Had it been any of his friends, they would've thought he had gone out for the night. Only Jean would know when to tell him to stop working.

_Go home._

He sent back knowing that there was a good chance she had either just left work or was on her way out. Looking over to the clock he saw it was nearing four in the morning.

He never did figure if she chose to work into the morning sometimes or if it was a hazard of the job.

* * *

He called ahead to make reservations for Thursday night before going to lunch the next day.

In theory he could've brought her back to the manor that night but it just never seemed to be something he did in practice.

His parents never asked or questioned when he brought anyone in but with Jean, he seemed to take subconscious care to not take her to the Manor. Maybe it was the fear that for all her cloak and dagger identity, maybe she was someone who crossed his father once. Maybe he was worried the realization he was Malfoy would be too much at the manor. Maybe it was just she never asked to go back to the manor, he never hid the fact that he had rooms at the manor and still frequent it despite his flat in London.

No, he called for reservations at a hotel not far from restaurant.

It was a remnant of their early years, a habit that never really stopped. It was the walks after dinner that added another layer to how they were.

Somehow, two people who gave little of their underlying selves still managed to be able to talk about everything else to the point that dinner was just a prelude to all other conversation.

If the way to a man's heart was food, then a way to his mind was the fact that she could follow any topic he brought up and even contributed in ways that favor his views or even devil's advocate sides he rather not dwell on.

He had once told her of a deal he had all stitched up with some goblins only to have her to tell him that his simple story sounded like a set up from the goblins. She crushed his joy of a good business arrangement for him to realize that she had a ring of truth. It had been too simple arrangement and in practice he had to go back and add new restrictions to protect himself where he had missed and she noticed.

* * *

If only he could have just called it just sex.

Lust was something he could fix. Lust was something a debaucherous weekend away could fix.

He knew he had companionship from her.

Friends were the ones you went drinking with and had stories of youthful flubs and life lessons.

No, companionship was that element that endured. It was that knowing that somehow, just maybe things would somehow be the same the rest of his life. It was the knowing that maybe, he would still be doing this twisted dance with her into his old age regardless of all other elements of his life. It was that knowing that even if he never married her or knew who she really was, he would accept it.

Companionship was something he never thought to have in life. He had friends from childhood of both sexes but that contentment to those friendships didn't parallel or rival that of what he had with her. The explicit quid pro quo he had with his friends was not the same of that of what he had with her.

He couldn't see what it was he gave her in return for whatever it was she gave him. She didn't ask for anything but his time and even then, it was time that was only asked for if he had it to give freely. She made no demands for him to cast anything aside for her. He never asked her to call in sick to work to see him. He was moderately accepting that it was possible that it would be weeks before she had a chunk of time for him.

No, it was companionship.

If it was more, then he would've spouted out silly messages of how he might have missed her or been thinking of her at random intervals.

She never asked if he thought of her when they were apart and she never mentioned and he never did in turn.

* * *

He gave her bare shoulder a kiss as she pulled the covers up for the night.

He had noticed her flinch earlier but didn't ask. Once was a shock, twice was a story.

"Hmm?" She could tell he noticed.

"I was at a friend's Quidditch game earlier this week." She never was a fan of the sport so it must have been for a friend she even bothered to go. "Stray bludger from their practice nailed me in the shoulder."

He wasn't too keen at the thought of the accident but obviously she was fine with it. "You should take a potion for the pain."

He remembered his years on the Sytherin team. It wasn't a simple thing to be hit with anything unless it was the snitch. She had a small frame and while there wasn't any bruising, she didn't flinch for sympathy.

Rolling over, he kept an arm under her waist. He had hoped her friends took care of her for the accident.

He was sure her professional assessment of her injury was adequate but he knew she didn't fuss about herself so it was possible she only fixed the more serious problems and left superficial things like lingering aches to mend themselves with time.

"I'm fine." She didn't seem bothered at all to pull for sympathy despite her flinches at contact in the area.

"Right." He controlled his annoyance at her disregard. She was stubborn and he would let it be as she would let his advice go as far as just that.

She rolled over to lean on his chest then.

Stroking her hair, he let his mind wander.

He could feel the texture of her tresses. Despite the soft hint of curls in her appearance, her glamour was only superficial. Beneath it laid a mess of curls her glamour hid.

It had unnerved him a bit in the beginning when he felt a curl where he didn't see one. Now, he was use to it. He spliced his mental image of what he felt and what he saw.

In his mind, he knew she was quite acceptable on the eyes. Her glamour was just that, to hide her actual appearance. It wasn't some trick to cast her as a great beauty, she was altering her image to that of an acceptable alternative while retaining some element of herself. She didn't make herself seem shorter or taller than she was, there was no hiding or enhancing of any of her attributes.

No, she stuck true to her real self in her glamour. He had wondered once or twice if it mattered if she had olive skin or not and he honestly stopped asking long ago. It didn't matter what color her eyes were or if she really did have high cheek bones.

It was all superficial and over the years, she had aged and whether it was out of choice or lack of magic to alter it, he saw a few lines form around the edges of her eyes. She would age regardless of her looks, she would always be Jean no matter who she was outside of them.

"I told the front desk you would need a wakeup call in the morning." She whispered as she drifted closer to sleep.

"Thanks." She was on the edge of sleep and it was likely she didn't hear him.

For her, he would always be willing to stay at muggle hotels.

For her he stopped caring that they dined at muggle establishments.

For her, he understood that anonymity had let them have a respite from the curious world at large.


	4. Chapter 4

Thought I'd mention this story is more focused on the dynamic of their relationship than the relationship in comparison to the world at large. So there will be lots of views from Hermione and Draco and minor input from all others. On a different note, I recreated the second half of this chapter from bad sleepy memory. I swear the original version was better but for the life of me I couldn't channel the feeling of what that was so I just went with the idea till I ran out of steam. But on a good note, having to focus on this chapter helped me got over the block I had with chapter 25 without jumping around the plotline. Enjoy all and feel free to let me know if I hiccupped somewhere and I know I hadn't gotten round to understanding how to keep the original format when uploading but that's nextish on things I'll work on. Have a good week all.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Answered**

**Chapter 4**

He had woken to the call and been glad she was a heavy sleeper that morning. She had obviously been working too much if she didn't even notice the phone. He had guessed she had a long week when she had contacted early some morning ago to make plans. Her light snoring and lack of response when he got out of bed only proved she was exhausted from her week.

A quick shower and dressing, he left a note saying he would be back soon. There was a chance she would still be asleep when he returned and he had hoped so. He was more than hoping to finish early and if he could get back before she woke then maybe it could seem like they woke together rather than him going to work and leaving her to her own devices. Settling the covers over her again, he left to his meeting.

* * *

She had woken to the empty bed and his note not long later. The distinct difference of muggle hotels was the high chance of a bed that didn't have curtains. So when the sun's glare proved too strong, she gave up sleep enough to roll over. Ordering room service for a pot of tea, she settled back into bed with the paper only to see that the blasted sun was quickly losing its vengeance with graying clouds. Within the hour of her waking, the sun disappeared and a light sprinkle had started.

Pulling the covers up further, she pulled out the entertainment section. Her parents' anniversary was coming up and she wanted to take them to a show or something out on the town they would enjoy. If anything, she needed an idea and the paper was her argument for or against a general direction. Sighing, she let the warmth of the bed and the comfort of not being out in the rain settle on her. She hadn't any plans for the day and she didn't mind just slothing about for the morning.

* * *

She had finished reading about a few shows when she heard him pop back in. Looking up from the paper, she saw his slight drenched appearance.

"Bloody freak rain." She gave a smirk at his comment. Despite the put together appearance he might have left with, the damp hair and the way his clothes hugged him only made him more endearing.

"Because it has something against you." She baited him. It was without the malice of her youth and while the jibe was there, it was playful and he accepted it in her. "Rain is your enemy."

"It's not like you're out there enjoying it." He said as he threw off his drenched coat.

"I'm good." She pulled the paper up a little to show that she was very settled in bed before she took a sip of her morning tea.

She heard him cast a few drying spells before he retrieved something from his robes.

He stopped on her side of the bed to pour himself a cup of tea before dropping something in her lap.

"For your shoulder." He said before sitting down to her side to peek at what she was reading.

"I'm fine." She looked down at the potion he gave before twisting past him to place it on the nightstand.

She could see his frown in her mind before turning to him. The set jaw line of his imprinted on her good shoulder blade as he leaned into her.

"Right." He said withdrawing to let her settle back against the headboard before taking the flask and pouring some into her tea as she started to take a sip.

"You're not always right." She said before making a face at the lack of change in flavor. She was use to pain potions that had an eerie reminder of muggle cold remedies that somehow managed to emit a sickenly sweet flavor.

"Neither are you." She shrugged at his statement.

"I'm sure you had better things to do than stop off to buy potions." Really, she would be fine in a few days. He really should have trusted her professional judgment on herself.

"The manor was on the way back." Right, they were in Wiltshire. "Which reminds me, I have to let Goyle know he owes me for emptying my stores of hangover relief. That is something I have better things to do than brew."

She didn't ask but had a feeling the potion was brewed by him. Its lack of the common gross aftertaste flavor being the first tell and that statement being the obvious tell.

She smirked in such a way that he would be proud. "So you went back to the manor to brew me a pain relief potion for something I will feel better from in a few days?"

It wasn't hard to do, she could have brewed it herself if she wished. She just didn't see the need to justify the efforts when it wasn't that bad.

"And you can feel better now rather than later." He said and for good measure leaned on her injured shoulder that was now painless and acheless before turning her head to lightly kiss her lips.

"Thank you." It was weird but if her younger self ever knew she would ever thank a Malfoy for anything, she was sure her younger self would hex her future self for such a terrible truth.

"Anything worth looking into today?" He said he thumbed past the page she was on. They hadn't made plans for the day and with most of the day left, it was sound to ask.

"Because you want to go back out in the rain?" She wasn't sure if he had asked to please her but she didn't have any desire to venture out into the rain given that it had picked up some since his return.

"Room service then." He said before leaning over the bed to reach the phone and ordered breakfast in.

It was a quirk of hers and he learned to indulge her lie in with the paper. She rarely read the paper from what he figured and with the muggle paper, she was less likely to make comments about yellow journalism so he let her enjoy the morning paper, page to page over breakfast. She was a fast reader when she wished and he was content to let her be as she would inform him of some muggle tidbit that while interesting, had little to no importance to either of them.

They had settled to watch a movie on the telly as the rain got worse over breakfast and lounged in the room before eventually leaving for a late lunch in the hotel restaurant.

It was hard and easy to tell how it was he spent the day with her and yet did so little.

She had spent a good portion of the movie telling about the muggle things he wasn't familiar that he saw and he countered with how there was a magical alternative to some of the things he never seen done the muggle way.

A few times she agreed that there were advantages to the magical way but that was neither here or there with them.

Eventually, she realized she had to pack up and return home to get ready for work.

He made an offhanded comment about her needing to learn to steer clear of bludgers while she told him to not indulge too much as he was out of hangover relief. She went with him to check out before walking off to a safe apparition point where they went their respective ways.

* * *

If there was a word to describe Draco, sweet wasn't one of them. At least not by many and the ones who might get away with such a thing didn't do so often.

Hermione knew he was sweet on Jean when he felt like it. She remembered once in their beginning years when she said she wanted to run a marathon just once in her life and when she did finally signed up for the London Marathon, he didn't complain when she woke early to go running. Instead of some snide comment about silly goals or being in over her head, he would have coffee ready when she got back and even gave her a rub down a few times after her shower did little to deal with the aches of training. He did so without protesting or prompting and when the day had came, he even told her he was proud of her.

She had known he didn't understand her goal. If anything, she made the goal thinking that she hadn't a personal goal to work towards that wasn't school. By magical and muggle standards, she wasn't athletic and she knew it. Running for your life did not count as a qualifier to being fit.

If anything, the comment of wanting to do a marathon had been said to him then as a wish and when he gave her that look of unknowing, she didn't feel discouraged. She felt compelled to share with him the workings of a marathon and what it took and why she wanted to achieve the goal.

He didn't ask for justification and the reasons she gave him was reflection of herself rather than looking for discouragement from him and he gave none.

If anything, Draco not knowing who she was had only encouraged her to try. He didn't make comments of how she didn't know how to fly properly or that any form of magical travel made her various forms of uncomfortable. He didn't reason for her lack of athletic ability in one aspect was a sign she was just as likely to fail in others. His blasé way of accepting her goal in no way tried to dissuade her or overtly encourage her. He showed his support in being sweet when she complained about training and considered quitting. He even ventured out with her when she said she would go for a quick run, a few times he told her he wanted to see what was so important about her morning runs. When that excuse was worn out, he said he went because he couldn't figure how she could run and still have a place to comfortably hide her wand. He didn't force himself into running with her, he just casually slid into her habits with grace and consideration and it was disarming.

There had been a disconcerting novelty knowing that Malfoy was being sweet to her back then. Most of the beginning had a novelty that made her question how much of what she knew of him in school was an image and what was real.

As far as she could tell, he was being ideal to Jean who was many things Malfoys didn't entertain for long periods of time.

Between the time she started training for the marathon and by the time the marathon passed, she realized that it had been over a year since she started seeing him. The cool night in early spring where drinks and expectations of being forgotten had long passed them. She didn't know what it was that kept him coming back to see her.

It was a casual thing at the start and somehow it stayed casual through the years.

Those beginning moments of being sweet on each other held the door open to their future and she knew she was the one that nudged it close.

She was the one that used school to keep him at a distance. She could have given him a chance but when things got serious, she chose her life over him. When it was nearing time to move out of her flat with her uni roommate, she didn't take his offer to move in. He had put it out as an option a few times after the marathon saying how they spent a considerable amount of time together and it was practical. Instead, she made excuses and found her own place without him. He didn't push the idea and she never felt comfortable jumping into the idea given what she hadn't told him about herself.

He had put his faith and trust of her on the line and she didn't think it was strong enough for what she didn't tell him.

She distanced herself with responsibilities and reprioritizing him to being second best to whatever it was she had planned. She said to herself that they weren't serious about each other and she was doing them a favor. It was the reason she held on to for years and given how little he pushed to change things, she let it be assumed as a mutual agreement.

He was sweet on her because of their history as Draco and Jean and she was tied to him just as much as he was. It was part compulsion and she hadn't a reason to stop aside from guilt but if anything, she had taken his selfish approach to things. She didn't stop seeing him because she didn't want to.


	5. Chapter 5

*Head smack hard surface*

I went over this chapter to fix grammatical and spelling errors only to add a third more. Oh wells, it helped build on some of the points I originally just wanted to pass over. Think of this as chapter 5 and 5.5 crammed together. I wanted to touch on how Hermione and Draco got to their respective indifferent appearing way but that's more of a characteristic that spans the story. Oh wells, enjoy while I debate getting to putting chapter 28 down or editing chapter 6 to its finalish incarnation.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 5**

He didn't know her birthday.

He guessed it.

At best he was close to the actual day if not the day itself. Worst case, there was a week differential in when the actual day was.

She seemed to be in the habit to miss truly celebrating it for as long as he had known her. He remembered a few times she met her mates for drinks but an outright celebration just didn't happen. From the offhanded comments of how she had classes on her birthday to the fact that she didn't really have the time to meet her own friends on the given day and had to meet them earlier or later, he knew he was close to guessing the day.

He had no way of actually sending her a gift and while part of him might have if he could, the idea seemed to rob an element of their relationship in just sending something he'd rather give to her in person.

It would have been thought as standard that anyone with a Malfoy was draped in the finer things from head to toe but that had never been the case with her.

Had he had his way when they started up, she would've lived with him at his flat rather than some dinky squashed flat she shared with some muggle.

If he hadn't understood how comfortable she was with the way things were, he would've told her to throw out that ratty looking jumper she kept for cold nights back then. It was itchy to his skin when he slept with her and he couldn't understand why she didn't accept the usage of a warming spell instead of the coarse thing. He knew she liked it since it was her father's but that wasn't enough for him to like the thing.

No, Draco couldn't treat her better than his previous flings of the week. If there was a superficial tally card, it would seem he treated his flings better than her. After all, he bought his flings things of value, things that could be shown in _The Prophet_.

The things he gave Jean wouldn't even make a blip in any rag. The few times he did try for the extravagant, she looked put out and that internal dilemma that was written on her face only discouraged him more and more. There was no point in some piece of jewelry she might only wear with him or clothes she didn't have a reason to wear. She was more receptive to functional things or things that were fleeting that could only live in their memories.

When she mentioned how she didn't have time to make dinner most nights but missed home cooked meals, he got her some quick magical meals book and proceeded to prepare one with her. When he mentioned the toys he had as a child and she didn't really understand all the magical toys he mentioned, he got her a few so she would see first hand and from what he remembered she used them a few times with her godchildren. If he gave her anything, he gave her little things. Despite his nature, he accepted that she was against the big things. She liked muted gestures and he had to fight the urge to give her anything that shouted to the world he gave her a gift.

If anything, she truly was the woman who wanted nothing materialistic from him for she hadn't a want. Thus he had to be the man who had it all but somehow learned to appreciate her for her effort.

He remembered one of their first nights at her dingy flat where she cooked him a full dinner without magic after he mentioned how the elves handled such things for him and what they didn't he could spell his way through. She showed him how sometimes it was fun to roll out dough for the steak pie. Even if it wasn't perfect, it was fun.

It was sappy and silly and mundane. There was no air of extreme excitement in any of their gestures.

* * *

She was distracted.

Her mind was buzzing and she was fighting it. So at an impasse, she was on autopilot.

She stopped relying on her medical journals to fill the time where it could wonder. She had caught herself staring at same article more than once rereading out of confusion as to how she read it without actually reading.

She avoided the cafeteria when she realized that the buzzing hadn't stopped. Going into Diagon Alley wasn't an option unless she was constantly vigilant and she was too exhausted for it.

It was the willful avoidance that explained why she was working at some A&E down way from her parent's place. It was her night off and she was working in a muggle hospital to avoid reality. If anything, the war had changed how she even went about her career. In a skewed effort to embrace muggleborns, the Ministry of Magic and implemented a program via St. Mango that sought out healers who could work in the muggle world and field out potential future witches and wizards should their magic flare up accidents before they went to Hogwarts. It was a way to keep the magical child in the muggle world without the need of Aurors and investigations where previously it could be traumatic in the extreme cases. It seem previously the standard practice was any flares that caused injuries had the involved parties sent to St. Mango to be healed and then obliviated by Aurors and sent home.

It seemed the practice was finally evaluated as extreme and unnecessary. Given that there was a slew of healers who were muggleborn or willing to blend between the two worlds, it was better to inject the healers into muggle institutions so that they could slip in when problems came up.

In truth, the ministry had ensured that while she was qualified via credentials to inject her in any medical institution, she still made a habit of actually working in the muggle setting. It kept her mind from wandering and compartmentalized the buzzing.

"Can you imagine?" She had been taking her break with Sara, one of the nurses that seemed to work the same shifts as she did.

"Hmm?" She hadn't been paying attention and she knew it.

"All because of some childhood thing they can't remember and they go through their whole lives making each other miserable." She had no clue what Sara was speaking of.

"Right." She scrunched her face at how it was relevant but didn't ask.

"Those men you worked on earlier." Hermione remembered stitching someone up earlier but the details left her once they were taken care of.

"Oh." She was trying to find something to look forward to, something to fill the buzzing once her shift was finished.

"Maybe some men will always be boys that way. They can't get over some silly thing from when they were kids." Sara took a sip of her drink then.

"Yeah." She knew. She had been through war, Hogwarts, and life as a survivor and as a heroine. Some things really did seem silly when you still know how the burnt flesh of your ally stung your senses in battle. She shook her head then, one of many images she wouldn't forget but didn't want freshened in her mind.

"So, any plans this weekend?" Sara always asked and she never really had anything good to give.

"Not really." She was due to work at St. Mungo's the next few nights.

"You're young, you should find yourself a hot man and have fun while you still can." Sara was the married mother of two and had told her stories of her wild youth that reminded Hermione that while Sara was finishing school and cavorting around Europe, Hermione was battle Voldemort and worrying who was the next one to die till the madman was taken down.

"I think I've lost the ability for wild times." There was a youthful innocence in being wild, it asked for ignorance of consequence and willful need for life. Hermione had traded her youth and innocence for the health and safety of her loved ones. She was sure she squandered the last of any of her wildness with Draco but that was something she tried to never think of in detail unless necessary.

"It's never too late." Sara gave her a smile that obviously meant there was memory to her smirk that followed. "I remember before the kids were born. Jack and I had just accepted the fact that we were long past the honeymoon phase and he came to pick me up one day and told me to trust him."

Sara had a content smile then.

Hermione nodded at that, if there had been a honeymoon period with Draco it was long gone as well.

"He borrowed his buddy's bike and took me out for the night. No plans, no nothing. Just asked if I wanted him to turn left or right every now and then. We somehow ended up at Alton Towers an hour before they closed."

"That's nice." It sounded sweet. For now, Hermione had sweet.

"It might not be as sordid as some tryst but it was spontaneous. You should have that, a secret moment of escape."

She had her escape. He was a mere hour away from where they were if he wasn't back at the manor.

"I do." She sounded resigned to it and she was. She was going on ten years with Draco and it was taking more and more effort to not realize that they were truly living separate lives where meeting was becoming a hassle despite the sweet. They were getting closer to being on borrowed time being the way they were.

"I see." There was a hint of condescending disbelief in Sara's tone.

Hermione felt like she was being challenged then, as if she had cried wolf and was expected to produce proof. "I guess I was never one to kiss and tell."

She couldn't really remember a time she ever sat down to gush about Draco. What she thought and felt was all in her head. It was private and not subject to public speculation or spectacle of any sort.

Sara reached over and took her hand then. Looking up, she met the older woman's gaze. "Then go rock his world this weekend. You can't keep caring around that look of restraint all your life. You have to have an outlet, somewhere you can stop being so you can grow."

Sara kept her gaze intent to draw something out from Hermione that she couldn't give before Sara gave her a wink. Checking her watch she mentioned that they should get back to the floor.

* * *

There was a slight morning chill when she stepped out of the building. She knew that something was up. There was giggling and disdain in the voices of those she walked past at St. Mungo's earlier in the week. They were talking about him. It was just something in her peripheral senses that just knew and whatever it was, she grew to not want to know over the years. If it was important, he would have mentioned and he didn't so, she had made as much effort to block it out. She didn't care what he did at work or who he saw when they weren't together. If anything, she didn't see what she had to gain from caring. She didn't keep any expectations of something grand or some scheme of a picturesque future for them. So it didn't matter if he ruined his name or gained notoriety in any sense.

She looked at the face of her phone again.

Hermione had planned to walk a good distance before apparating home but that good distance had past some blocks ago.

Sara had been right, she was young and she had yet to do anything about it. She remembered how she, Harry and Ron scheme and pull pranks together before the war. She remembered the sense of new they collectively had at Hogwarts.

She just couldn't remember when she stopped appreciating that element of life.

When had she stop being happy for simple things?

Her boys had moved on in life, she was Aunt Hermione to Harry and Ginny's children. They spoke of adult life like one speaks of taxes. Ron would drone about the Chuddly Cannons and how well things were going for him and the team but that air of excitement that he was working for his childhood dream team was faded to nostalgia.

Where did her last bit of excitement go?

_4:18AM_

_Thursday_

She knew her answer.

That was why she did it. It took but seconds and the message was sent.

* * *

_Ping._

He had just drifted off not long ago and was lingering at the edge when he heard the chime.

Rolling over slightly, he looked at the message.

_What are you wearing? :P_

He blinked at that.

What was he wearing? Looking around, he saw that it was still dark out. Shaking his head he read it again.

He had expected something else. It took him a long minute to register that she was being playful. He couldn't remember the last time she was in such a mood.

He had had a terrible two weeks and had fled back to the flat to avoid his father every chance he got. In a few cases, he went as far as to stay at a muggle hotel under an assumed name to just avoid being found.

If anything, he had been waiting for her to add to his terrible week.

_I'm in bed._

He sent back not sure if he could muster any sense of fun to match her attitude.

When Rita Skeeter had tried to bait him with a friendly notice to her new article, he told the bitch to shove off. He hadn't much left to be ashamed of that the magical population as a whole didn't already know to some extent. So when she actually succeeded in scandalizing him earlier in the week, he was not happy. It wasn't so much that he had done anything wrong but it was her venomous view of things that twisted the story into much more and much worse than it ever was.

She had dug her poisonous pen into his personal life under some veiled attempt to champion some 'neglected' woman he saw once upon a time. He barely registered a face to the name in the article. He wanted to claim that Amie Lewis was some knockout that briefly hung on his arm but for the life of him, she wasn't memorable enough to register too many details.

From what he barely remembered and what Skeeter wrote, he could only surmise that Amie had in hindsight casted assumptions of why he stopped seeing the jilted woman and why.

He was called everything from a cad to a pureblood closed minded waste of space on womankind. It seemed the once jilted woman from years past thought he might have once wanted a future with her.

She made claims him wanting to cement a future of domesticity and left her when she revealed she as a muggleborn. If anything, he sure had ended things as she was encroaching on his time with Jean and she was being comfortable with him where he wasn't with her. He knew that either of those offenses was usually when he knew to end things. Only a few of the women in his past knew not to nest with him and they went on their way without much fuss. It was the ones who tried to get too comfortable that caused him problems. They made themselves at home in his life in some way that he didn't allow and in a few causes made or forced future plans on him. A few went as far as to look into his diary to mark out times for some upcoming events where he intentionally left open for Jean despite the lack of detail. They wanted attachment where he didn't.

If he remembered correctly, Amie came to him looking to be a quick trophy wife. He knew he was in trouble when the woman asked him to take him off of work to simply off to be reckless and didn't stop pushing when he told her he wanted to focus on his work. A few times when Jean contacted him telling him she was busy but gave her future free spots for him to just keep in mind, he knew his options. It was either the woman forcing him into her image or the one who he had in his life for years who he had an understanding with. In his mind he knew he did he right thing and ended things with Amie claiming that it was him and he didn't see a future.

As far as he knew, Amie accepted it and went off on her way last he checked. Her claims via Skeeter were downright absurd given that he never spoke in certainty of any promises with the women he went home with. If there was any woman who shared his bed that held any certainty with him, it was Jean and only Jean and even then the few slight certainties he gave, she never pushed for and was inclined to wave him off rather than leap for joy.

If anything he would always know he regardless of promises that Jean had the respect and need for privacy to never be part of Skeeter's rag, ever.

_Ping._

_ Knock Knock._

He stared at the message.

She wasn't prone to exceedingly whimsical messages, especially so early in the morning.

Given that he had taken the bait, he might as well finish the joke.

_ Who's there?_

He didn't have to wait long for a response.

_You'll have to open the door for that answer._

He gave a smirk at that and when he heard the actual sound on his front door, he was mildly shocked.

Part of him told him it was a coincidence but then he didn't truly believe in such things and given that he had a terrible week, he had to check that her whimsy wasn't, couldn't be tainted with something else.

_ So you're not mad then?_

_ Doesn't matter._

Either she didn't know or she didn't care, neither of which he was inclined to push.

It was a quick second after that he opened his front door.

She was flushed but a smile ghosted her lips.

Stepping aside, he let her in wordlessly.

He couldn't remember the last time she stopped by his place.

She shrugged her coat off before leaning on the back of his couch and gave him a once over.

"Red?" He looked down at his pajama bottom then.

"They're comfortable." He said as he stepped closer to lightly kiss her.

"Ever the Slytherin." She was taking a jibe at him, baiting him.

"How was work?" She was dressed smart enough and it was unlikely she went out with her friends that night.

"Tolerable." She whispered into his chest.

"Tired?" It was a silly question, he knew she was. She had just come from work.

"No." She sighed.

He could hear the yawn she held back.

"Come on." He said before leading her to bed.

She threw off a few layers at the foot of the bed before taking one of his shirts for the night.


	6. Chapter 6

So I should have been revising for exams but I didn't and I would have been editing this chapter to be uploaded but the site was never working properly when I tried the few times I tired. So I spent the weekend working on chapter 29 and realizing how much I hated the mental barf that it became. Two days of thinking my brain was out to get me, I gave up and let the chapter be and made a very lighthearted chapter 30 and what might just be a one shot sequel instead of epilogue to cheer myself up. By no means does this mean the story ends at 30 and looks to be closer to being done somewhere around fifty chapters as I have a lot of things to write. Enjoy while I go and take exams the next few days and mentally die for a few days after. With luck I'll be back to some capacity to get the final version of chapter 7 out by the end of this week.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 6**

"You're happy for a man who's had his honor and integrity insulted this week." He looked up to see Blaise enter his office with most likely work.

"I was reminded that I'm still a decent man." Draco shot back.

"Whatever." Blaise was use to him talking about Jean in veiled way. "Your old man said this has to go through you first and wants it back first thing tomorrow."

Lucius was annoyed with him. He knew his father was less than pleased to know that Draco's name crossed Rita Skeeter. It pleased his father even less to have it in print that Skeeter could still play to the public that would never forget the Malfoys ever had any opinion on blood status. Truth or not, the article had sparked a small outcry of how the Malfoys as a whole hadn't changed.

Lucius didn't care if Draco did or didn't do what the article claimed, it was a matter of perception that Lucius was not happy with. His father had spent a great deal of money and time to give the family name a closer to neutral view of blood status to the public at large. The eleventh hour family change of position during the war helped get their foot in the door of the new society that formed after the war. The only problem was there were many that remembered the days before that change and were hard to forget it. His father and his family laid a foundation of resentment before the war and he was no better to his own peers. The sentiment that Malfoys were elitist who lived in a pureblood bubble still carried through to many. Some could be swayed if the reminders were hidden.

So with Draco's role in the family, he was the face of the new generation. It was placed upon him to cultivate the new image of the Malfoys. The past couldn't be changed but a good redemption story did help pull at the public's sympathetic heart. So at least in business, the Malfoys used what they had to make the new image, many who wanted to get ahead after the war were still subjected to the old rules of business in needing money and a name. So Lucius dictated that there would be a blatant flaunting of dealings between the Malfoy family and anyone that wasn't a pureblood. Dealings were done in public, unlike any other dealing with previous pureblood friends done at the manor. So Draco was usually sent to meet whoever in as much a public place as possible. Given that an ancient woman from his past had sullied the family name, Lucius was quick to remind Draco to get to work.

Had Draco been more petty and selfish and petulant, he would've taken Jean to Diagon Alley and snogged the woman for all to see outside Gringrotts.

He knew that would never be an option. Not only would it be a large rip into their privacy, he wasn't that desperate for a fix.

He waved Blaise off as he looked over the large stack that was dropped on his table.

"Don't look so excited, your father might think you did it on purpose to spite him." With a smack upside Draco's head, Blaise left.

No, he was 'excited' for a slew of different reasons.

He was excited that when he had woken that morning, she was there.

In his bed.

In his flat.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since she actually stayed over at his place.

It wasn't till the morning shower sprayed down on him that he realized the last time she stayed over, he had a different flat altogether. He had moved to this one for the increased privacy as well as the view. He remembered a few times in their earlier years that the new place had plenty of space for her but was waved off. He couldn't remember when it was they found reasons to stop stay over at each other's places. If anything, it just struck him how far they went from being comfortable to being comfortable at a distance. He had been use to the days before when she could easily apparate into his old flat. The novelty of how she arrived last night was not just because she felt whimsical, she just didn't know where to land.

He would've kept his thoughts going on the subject had she not joined him in the shower.

He had grown use to waking up with the plan of letting her sleep in when he saw her. The days of mornings awake with her died some time ago. It wasn't that he was opposed to morning sex or sex in the shower but as it became clear over the years, she worked the night shifts more often than not and was prone to sleep in and needed the rest. So, he just didn't feel it right to disturb her when he woke in the mornings.

It was after he got dressed that he realized she didn't come with an overnight bag and her visit was unplanned and completely the product of whatever it was that infused her bout in spontaneity. He was ready to pull her things out of the wardrobe along with his own clothes for the day when he realized she had stopped keeping a few pieces there years ago in a different flat. So he was content with the fact that she had only his robe.

He had tried to make breakfast when he realized he was cooking for two. He caught himself amending requests for things from the fridge to be in multiples for two as she was there. It took a few guesses on her part and a couple of exasperated questions to find the things but she quickly caught onto the system of madness that was his kitchen.

Draco didn't doubt his father noticed he was late to work that morning. Given the fact that he stayed to snog her silly, it was worth it. Something was in the air for them and it made him feel like things would be fine despite the timing of it all.

It was stupid but a few words from her and he was set off to start his day wrapped in a blanket of contentment.

"Have a good day Draco." Such a simple phrase and she had said such things before in the past but the way it rolled off her tongue as she walked with him out of the kitchen filled him with energy.

It was all he needed from her lips before he took their collectives breaths away against his front door.

He hazily remembered giving her a playful 'you too' before he finally made it out the door.

He knew something was different and he didn't care.

* * *

Draco had endured his father's prolonged reminder that day that there were certain expectations of image that needed to be maintained.

If anything he bore the brunt of the speech as he knew it was his trade off in lifestyle. He had traded his father's expectation of him settling down for a higher expectation of success in work. Where his peers were marrying, married, and starting families, Draco wasn't. It stood to reason that if he didn't, he had to compensate somewhere else. The days where Draco could gallivant without a quid pro quo to the family expectations was gone. Thus he sat as his father reminded him he was to be good at something. Whether Skeeter's article had any truth, it should've never come to the public mindset.

So he listened with a knowing look that could careless what his father thought. His father simply hadn't understood how much he could keep some things private and it didn't matter that his father didn't know and if Draco had a say, wouldn't know.

* * *

He eventually returned home knowing that she had left long ago. Pouring himself a drink, he was content that it was all settling again. The scandal was dying down and the lack of his personal input as well as an inundation of his business dealings being paraded by those he worked with made the claims seem more and more shaky as another day passed.

It wasn't till he went in search of food he saw what was on the counter.

She had left him a plate of cookies.

Firewhiskey and chocolate chip cookies were an odd combination but he didn't mind. Gleaning over the flat, he realized he didn't notice the hints she was there that morning. She had straightened the things on his coffee table, turned the plant by the window so it wouldn't keep growing slanted towards the sunlight. That was not to mention she had left a dissipating wake of baked cookies for him.

He had cleared a few away before getting a glass of milk to replace the Firewhiskey. Savoring the fact that she had lingered to somehow make him cookies hit him with another revelation.

He didn't keep the makings for cookies in his flat.

He just didn't bake. He barely managed to cook in any sense of the word cook.

He ate out and kept only the basics in his flat. If he wanted a real meal, he would go to the manor or have the elves at the manor send something over, unless he just went out to eat. Looking around, he saw the bag of flour she tucked into the pantry that he knew he hadn't bought. The last time he kept anything in his flat to use for baking was in his last flat and again, it was for her.

It was one thing that he didn't really cook, but when it came to baking, he just didn't bother at all. He didn't have the knack to try and the few times he did so on his own had him making rocks in his oven and in a few cases, gooey celluloid masses not fit for consumption.

It was by chance he even knew Jean could bake. She had volunteered to help with a bake sale and at the mention of her efforts and his lack of knowledge on the talent, he went to her place to watch and 'learn' from her. Problem was, on the day she had planned to do her baking, her roommate had burned a shepherd's pie and somehow managed to put the oven out of commission. So he offered his own oven for her task. He helped her measure the ingredients and let her do what she had to do and for his efforts, she let him taste test the batches that came out of the oven.

Shaking his head as he looked at the emptying plate, he didn't know if he was more worried she was acting strange or worried if this was a one off and he was enjoying it too much.

Stopping he saw that she had folded something under the plate she left.

It was a copy of _The Prophet_ circa the day Skeeter tried to scandalize him. He knew the warm goodness of cookies wasn't to last.

Letting his head hit the cupboard door, he let a groan escape.

Turning the folded paper over, he saw the note she left.

_I never did like the way she thought she was doing society a service with her poison._

_-Jean_

He calmed.

He knew he wasn't a saint. He had been subject of quite a few lapses in judgment in his lifetime and where his father reacted, Jean never did. He had a reassurance that she never judged him for his mistakes and mostly, she never brought them up. His mistakes were his and she didn't step in to meddle or remind him of some responsibility to some entity to be considerate of.

If anything, he knew Jean was too sensible to react without facts and she very well knew he was greatly flawed. He had momentarily forgotten Jean was a constant in ways he was never use to. She had the capacity of unconditional acceptance of his many failings in life and was realistic enough to see through the perfection that everyone else saw. Skeeter's article wasn't the first article or publication that dragged his name through the mud and it wasn't even the more revealing of the other things that have been said about him.

If anything, Jean just didn't seem to care about what others said of him. If she did, she never let on.

Sitting back, he made his dinner of her cookies internally hearing her tell him that he was ruining his body without a proper meal.

* * *

Saturday found him meeting his mother for lunch as she was in Diagon Alley to spoil herself and wanted company during her break from shopping.

He had sat back as his mother tried to speak to him about meeting his father half way by cutting back at work to make time for his personal life. She wasn't approving but she couldn't disapprove as he hadn't done anything truly wrong.

He eventually left her to debate over which piece of jewelry was the quality that befit her.

Wandering to Flourish and Blotts, he skimmed through the new arrivals as it had been some time since he last picked up a good book. Pausing over the new section of muggle books, he found one that piqued his interest.

Ignoring the stares of passersby, he quickly made his purchase before the whispering got too loud.

He was useless that weekend and he knew it.

He couldn't find it in him run with compulsion and follow on the tail of her whimsy to ask if she was free for dinner. He was finding his own means of being whimsical without her. Mostly he feared that her actions were a one off and to reflect her actions would only be met with rejection. Hence he bought the muggle book. Why he went straight to the muggle section was a mystery he didn't feel the need to examine. What he knew was that he finished the read wanting to know more. For a glimmer of a second, he understood the female protagonist. It was an era and world he didn't understand but he somehow understood. It was in the after notes that he realized he had doomed his literary thirst as the writer of the piece had died before completing the book and while an ending had been plotted for the piece, it was never produced.

Part of him felt cheated to settle for a footnote ending to something that spanned his weekend.

_Ping._

_Chocolate or Vanilla?_

He would never claim to know what was in her head. She was too guarded and removed to let anyone in her head. He had learned one night laying awake as she snoozed that even in her sleep she was adapt at Occlumency. He wasn't very good at Legilimency but it didn't take skill to know that she was skilled in literally blocking her mind off. He hadn't intentionally wanted to dig through her mind but part of him had been worried of her life as she had spoken of all the things she was working on. He had never spent time with someone as driven as she was and it fascinated him, she was someone who pushed themselves to the limit and kept going and he had never really been that person. Then in his curious way, he brought back a truth he purposely ignored about her. It scared him to know that even after years and years of peace, she still kept her habits of the war around. He could understand the need for safety but it was a clear reminder that whoever she was during the war, she had lived a life that was trained to be worried. He wanted to run his mind through his memories and see if maybe he had met her on the battlefield once. He had hope she had never been on the receiving end of his curses but given all he did, he couldn't cling to that hope. There was too high a chance he might have cursed her for the war or done so because he was prat as a child. If anything, he knew and readily accepted without regret was that she still stayed with him over the years so even if he might have casted a curse at her. If she was angry in the past, she wasn't there for the years just for retribution.

_Both._

He was selfish, she knew it. She shouldn't make him choose where he saw there needn't be an either to a situation. Hadn't she realized he was selfish with her despite his laid back approach? He had yet to find himself willing to readily let her go when the time might come and still clung to their bits of time together.

_What if you had to pick?_

He did pick.

_I picked both._

_:)_

He didn't have to wait long before he heard the pop behind him.

Wherever she had come from, it wasn't work. She had a skintight top that left little to his imagination and only accentuated what he knew and a skirt he didn't dare ask why she would even own anymore.

Her hair was tied up haphazardly and she came baring two ice cream cones each with both flavors.

"I see I'm rewarded for my choice." He said taking the offered treat.

She didn't miss his prolonged once, twice over at her appearance.

"A friend wanted girls' night out and I was obliged to go." She said as she gave a slight lick at the vanilla scoop atop her cone before the melting solid mingled with its neighboring chocolate.

"You are hardly a girl." He smirked as he gave her his best bedroom eyes.

"You're terrible." She shot before taking a bite of the vanilla. It was a hinted challenge to kill any phallic image he might have had at her and the treat.

"You like it." She was comfortable with who he was. He just couldn't understand why and never had the courage to ask why it seemed so easily acquired.

He just wanted to be selfish with her.


	7. Chapter 7

My creative output has slowed to confusion. I have many chapters to edit and in my recent start to get the last half of the story down before the creativity start to fight with my holiday plans, I am stuck on content and personal ability. Somewhere around chapter 35 will be a rated M chapter if I can just get the mood and intent out properly. If not, I'll have to find another way to get the point across. On a more current note, I can promise that when I get chapter 8 out, 9 and 10 will be fast behind because if I don't put them out in quick succession, I might be hated a little. On that note, I am aware of how cruelly this chapter end and it was sadly intentional.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 7  
**

She eventually settled into his arms after his attempt to finish her last bite which she wouldn't offer him. Their legs intertwined in a muddled mess as he held her close.

"Should I be jealous you keep this outfit for the girls?" He was baiting her but it helped him find out if there were other outfits like it. He was no longer privy to even the little details of what was in her closet and the fact that she had been out in such a fashion made him wish he had been there to stave off the bold who might think of her as unattached.

"I would keep it for the boys but there's really no point." She didn't seem to hear his playful mood as she was melancholy then in regards to her friends.

"Nice to know I don't count in that. I must be special then." He couldn't help tooting his own horn then. He willfully disregarded her comment about other guys given from what he gathered, the few male friends she had were either married or sounded more like her brothers than love interests. Such details helped him learn to not mind her male friends given that she grew up with the boys as she called them and was even the godmother to the children of one of them. If anything, outside of her small realm of harmless friends, he was reassured she wasn't out searching for his permanent replacement.

"Yes well, you see something entirely different than most people." He couldn't tell if she was referring to their relationship or the fact that she still kept herself glamoured all these years. He wanted to believe she regretted the secrecy that weaved into their way of being but then he knew she didn't truly regret most of what she did and from all he knew, there was a high chance they might never have gotten very far had the secrecy not been there.

"I don't have to see to know something." He didn't care if she was pug faced under the glamour or scarred, she was Jean.

She shrugged her shoulders against his chest then.

"All things in perspective Jean. Trust me, the superficial only goes so far." He knew. He still had 'friends' who came out only when they needed something from him. It was all good and fun in his youth to throw his favor to anyone from Slytherin just because they were his house but in the end, he learned. They wanted a piece of him and he had learned to stop giving.

"It still matters." He knew she had been off lately. It had been a long time since he had seen or been in contact with her as often as he did the past week or so. The fact that she was in his flat was more than a sign. He just ignored the need to ask as she had nothing to readily share.

"Then stop and I'll prove it doesn't." He had crossed a line with that, there had always been a part of him that burned to know who she really was. Then part of him knew that once he knew, he had no way of reconciling what he knew of Jean and what he knew of the person she was outside of him. It would be that moment of clarity where he might have to put a face to a curse he sent across the battlefield. He feared he that the more he of her, the more he would know of himself and the worse it was for them.

She tensed at his comment. It was as if someone bodybinded her in that instance.

"It matters to me." She relaxed at that. She had effectively ended that point. She saw it as a certainty that he couldn't sway her from and he knew the tone as one he couldn't easily kiss or ply his way through.

It wouldn't matter if he didn't care, she did and she held all the cards.

It struck him then. That fear in her, that moment where she was unguarded in her irrational fear of something he didn't know and simply couldn't see.

"Are you afraid of me?" Maybe he did curse her once and maybe the scar was deeply imbedded in her mind. He didn't know how to continue if he truly had. Suspicions and possibilities were not truths and confirmation was a matter he wasn't foolish enough to not understand the ramifications.

If anything, she had always been open to him on many points as long as she remained hidden. The harsher the truth, the more likely she would never answer. The bulk of what she claimed to have learned and assimilated because of the war was told in passing comments, never once did she really share they why of how she knew so many healing spells prior to her education. Her depth of understanding the betrayal of human nature could only invoke images of Death Eaters who murdered and tortured for fun and not once did she share any of her war baggage with him. Where he had told of how he felt forced to do things he regretted and how he was obligated for the sake of a higher reason despite the act, she listened sympathetically and shared his feelings but never reciprocating with her own detailing story.

He understood parts of her fear and acceptance of the past. For whatever smiles and goodness he offered to the public, one hair out of place and the image of his younger self came through in the eyes of others. He remembered the adoration and hate that flowed from the women he met before and after the war. Some would see him for a good time but come the morning he was scum.

Was the morning coming up on them?

He remembered being momentarily relieved when he first met her and she didn't throw the drink in his face or fawn over him. That first hesitation of hers was pure and came from the fact that he was some man who bumped into her rather than a fear of his past as a dark wizard.

She didn't tense at his question. He could hear a slight scoff at his question.

"Should I be?" She was back to playful then. He felt her fingers trace where the Dark Mark would have been had he had he still it.

He watch as her fingers near accurately trace what it would've looked like. For all his worry of her own dread and fears, the fact that she knew such things in such details only made him mentally panic at the implications.

"No." It wasn't just a wish against her fears, it was truth that she shouldn't fear him. He couldn't change what once might have been but he could establish what was.

Clearly she had something to fear if it wasn't him. Something was stuck between them and for the better and worse, he was flying by the seat of his pants hoping to not make it worse.

"I know." She was resigned to his statement but it didn't kill his fears.

"Were you?" If she wasn't afraid of him now, then maybe she was once.

"No." It came quicker and just as clear. He was fishing in bad waters and he knew it. While she might have relaxed, she was still tenser than she was before he broached the topic at hand.

"So trust me with your secret." To not be afraid, there is trust. He knew it as a truth in life. He remembered slowly losing his trust in his parents when he was sent to kill by orders of Voldemort, he remembered grasping onto faith of the family when he believed he was led to die by his own family and he could no longer trust them to keep him alive. He wanted to trust her implicitly rather than conditionally, he wanted her to do so with him.

She turned in his arms to face him then. Part of him was expecting the glamour to come down. He had expected the clarity he feared.

He thought that in her hesitation she was staring him down, challenging him to stop his line of thought. No, she was looking intently at something.

Leaning down she lightly kissed him.

"You are my secret." She whispered against his collarbone as she settled down again. "As scandalous as it might be for you, did you ever consider that it would be as dangerous or reckless of me to stop?"

It was two fold. He knew that if she actually left him one day, he would be lost. She clung to him in a way he couldn't describe over the years but he knew it well as he did the same with her.

"Yes." This was a danger he wasn't use to challenging. He held her closer then. The cost of knowing was always a high one he knew they might not be able to pay.

Then it struck him a new fear.

"Promise me you're safe." He had never asked or made a promise of her. In passing they might have humored a notion of something silly but he had never outright asked for a guarantee.

"For now." He knew he couldn't void the sadness from her life. He just had to ask that he didn't have it in them.

"Good." His curiosity had lost to the fact that reality was something worse and better than what he knew. He couldn't jeopardize something he knew for an unknown he couldn't fight.

* * *

They had fallen asleep on his couch only for him to roll over in the night and hit his face to the back of the couch. It was then that he put them to a proper bed.

Looking down at her sleeping form, he momentarily focused on her features. He knew that the image was false. For a brief minute he let his eyes dig for the layer beneath, something to tell him if her fears should be his fears.

He never found the layer. She was able to keep the glamour up for days and he knew it. Not once in the years he knew her did the glamour fade and for the times they were apart too long, he even questioned if it was glamour or his own imagination that didn't know better. Truth was, she was a powerful witch of a reason and she made him feel inadequate in ways he could and couldn't accept.

He could feel himself start the losing battle then.

He couldn't say it then and he doubt he would ever tell her he loved her.

Love would mean he would know.

Love would mean he embraced his fear of who she was.

Love was knowing the truth for he knew it would hurt.

Blind forced ignorant contentment was knowing that it was fine as it was.

He would continue to accept things as they were rather than risk the fear and truth of a reality he couldn't fight and was realizing he might never be able to. His selfish side lacked the courage to be brave.

* * *

She found the book upon waking to make coffee. He slumbered despite her early predawn rise. Part of her wanted to slip back to sleep but she knew she was wide awake enough that it wouldn't happen just yet.

Making enough coffee to tide her over a bit to not be utter useless, she left some in the pot for when he woke.

He was getting restless. Comfort and familiarity were breeding curiosity in him again. For a brief instant last night Hermione had wanted to tell him. For a second she let herself think of how nice it would be for him to speak her name. To hear him call her Hermione. Then she realized that in his mind, she was Jean. Jean rolled off his tongue with the smooth silky warmth of grace and considerate tone that imparted comfort and contentment. Hermione had yet to get such treatment. Hermione was linked to Granger. Granger was tainted with school rivalry. Granger dripped with disdain for the person she was in her youth. She would lose Jean if he knew. It would disappear and never come back. The few times they passed each other as Hermione and Draco, she could at best describe him as civil. In truth he was curt and went about his way without regard to Hermione.

If anything, he was the only person who knew Jean and didn't look at her as walking library from his youth. He knew she had a thirst for knowledge but to him Jean's thirst for knowledge was something considered healthy and endearing. Hermione's thirst was a sore spot in his past, their past. The very way she nagged him was met with humored maybes and any winded speech Jean ever gave was met with a slight humoring in him whether he cared for it or not. No, he thought of Hermione's ways in such respect to be bothersome and hated.

She would loose it all as would he if he knew.

Fingering the pages of the muggle book he had on the coffee table, she took it with her back to bed. It had been quite some time since she read a muggle book and the fact that he had it made her want to read it as well.

* * *

He woke to her slanted upright position. Clearly she had woken at some point and came back to bed. When he saw his recent purchase settled against her chest, it was clear what to do next. She didn't wake as he readjusted her, she would clearly have a crick in her neck if he left her like she was. Transfiguring a bow, he wrote a note into the cover of the book before leaving the warmth of the bed.

He had work and a long weekend to overcome.

* * *

_I think of you and that is all I need to know. Enjoy the book. In case I don't get a chance, happy birthday. _

_-Draco_

She kept a smile about her that day.

It wasn't a long read but she savored each page. She had read another of Gaskell's work in her youth and while Sylvia's Lovers was a sad and depressing lesson that love and life didn't always have a happy ending together, Wives and Daughters gave a sense of futile enduring hope despite the odds. There were circumstances upon circumstances for the characters as they were driven deeper into each other's choices but at the end, despite lacking a concrete ending, one could still want and believe that it could end happy.

She spelled the cover to hide the message as well as keep prying eyes from the book so she could read it in private as well as public.

She felt selfish for reading the contents so fast the first time as she felt empowered by the struggles and willful continuation of Molly to endure. So she forced herself to make the pages last longer on her second pass of the book.

* * *

"Spill." Ginny was ever so tactful.

Hermione contemplated the ways she could avoid the issue.

"He's nice." She said stifling a yawn.

She didn't delude herself into thinking any of her friends didn't know something. They just knew she went about things at her own pace, in her own way.

She was a stubborn Gryffindor through and through.

"And?" And he's Draco Malfoy.

"And I see him every now and then." She knew she was getting to the age where if they hadn't asked or pushed, her friends would start to make the argument of settling down.

"So, no big plans for your birthday then? It's the last one of your twenties." She made a face to Ginny's jibe at her age and attempt for more information.

"I'm working tonight. That's my big plan." It was something to do.

"He should take you out. Big hurrah." She shook her head at that. Why bother? She was just another day older in the grand scheme of life.

"Whether or not he's free, I have work." Calling out for her birthday hardly seemed like a good idea.

"What do you mean he might not be free? It's your birthday, he should make himself free." Such rational thoughts that never crossed her mind, where Ginny saw a relationship with milestones and benchmarks, Hermione didn't. She had a history with Ron of forgotten milestones and missed and fumbled benchmarks. The life milestones in her life that stuck out mostly had to do with her just grateful to be alive. Being another year older was just a footnote to it all.

It was another aspect of things not discussed.

Hermione sighed at that. "It's a weeknight and chances are he's got work tomorrow. There's no point expecting him to wait up for me." Really, at best she might catch him if he was up late working and she didn't feel like interrupting him when he was working.

"You're an odd one." Everyone knew she was an odd one.

"I know." She was accepting of her oddity.

"So, still haven't told him your big secret?" It was the safety net in all of it. Her friends didn't ask and didn't push for the sake that a muggle was tangled into the mix.

"Wouldn't be fair. We're not at that point." And they never will be.

"It's been how long now?" Ginny wanted it quantified. It just didn't stand to reason that some guy didn't know something after all this time.

"Ginny, we have an understanding. He'll know when he's ready and I'll tell him." He would never be ready. She squashed the need to sigh at the futility of the conversation.

"So you do plan to tell him then?" She was digging again.

"I will when it comes time." It never will.

"When? After you quietly marry him and never tell him about the rest of your life? When your firstborn goes off to Hogwarts?" Ginny was a little incensed and rightly so. While it wasn't said, it was accepted that Hermione was seeing the mystery man on and off for some years now and if longevity was a sign of anything, it was a sign he wasn't leaving her life any time soon.

"Jumping ahead don't you think? I would think that I'd live with someone before marrying them." She was being nitpicking but Ginny had started the fight.

"It can't hurt to bring him by. We'll keep things simple." And the part where simple meant she wouldn't have to worry about her friends collectively drawing their wands at Draco? No.

"Look, muggle or not, there's just too many things I have yet to tell him. Things we agree to not talk about yet. Having him come by at any given interval with everyone will just undo the agreement." In the most major way possible.

"Hmm.." Ginny didn't respond immediately and Hermione was glad. That was until she realized Ginny's lack of comeback was something else entirely.

"Gins?"

There was a slight worry in Ginny's expression.

"He thinks you're Jean doesn't he?" And there lays a layer of the whole problem.

"Yeah." She resigned herself to that crime long ago. "Yeah he does."

Jean Lagrange was so far removed from the golden trio, so far in obscurity that a meeting with the likes of her friends as Jean was far from being worth mentioning by the public at large. But then the image of Jean with her friends would draw unwanted attention that would be a feat to keep quiet. Throw in a Malfoy and you create an uproar.

"Is he muggle?" Ginny wasn't dumb, she had know something was off over the years. She just didn't know where to push without pushing the wrong way.

"No." Hermione gulped down her coffee then. Ginny had started the conversation with some facts to be confirmed. It wasn't uneducated guessing and probing, Ginny had suspicions and she was set to confirm some of them.

Hermione let the bitter hot scalding liquid burning her for her crimes. Ginny's judging eyes bore into her and she knew it paled in comparison to what Draco's might be.

"So why won't you tell him?"


	8. Chapter 8

Yay, I actually got something done this weekend. I'm pathetic. Oh wells, assuming my Tuesday doesn't kill me, I should have 9 out. With any luck I might work out all the details I used but didn't like, this is the only version of this chapter that I've liked so far and hopefully everyone else does too. Going to channel my inner maniac side for chapter 9 to see if it works. On a side note, I started to write an oneshot shortish that takes place before this story starts. (yeah I know, I really should just finish this first) *head hits keyboard again*

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 8**

She had woken to him working in bed.

He had been slightly distracted after dinner and she knew he was thinking of work.

He was too polite to say so, so she steered them back to his flat quickly thinking to leave once they got there. Instead, he told her to stay and finish telling him about the incident that happened earlier in the week despite the fact they both knew he was distracted. He was grasping for details again and she couldn't stop from sharing. Thus they eventually strayed to the new changes to her work schedule as someone was going on vacation and that snowballed to the fact that she hadn't had a decent vacation in too long. The last bit was his opinion and she was quick to point out that he was just as bad in that department.

Now he was rightly working in bed because they ended up going to bed talking about places to go to and places they wanted to go back to. She felt the change and it was enough to make her wonder if she would run when things got closer to the breaking point. She could see it coming closer and it was a blinding light that only told her to run.

They weren't planning for just a trip away for a specific time, no, this was planning for a hazy future. It was like lovers who looked up to the sky and spoke of some mystical happy future together. There was hope in his voice, the kind that called for change. They had tried to grasp the intangible that night and for those hours, she had fallen victim to the illusion that it would come to be despite the way they were, the way things were.

Turning to look at him, he murmured a light apology for waking her and told her to go back to sleep. She tried for a bit to fall back to sleep but the gravity of their night was weighing her down with each passing moment.

"I'll be in the kitchen." He said as he closed the files he had out.

The Draco Malfoy she grew up with would've sooner told her to get use to it rather than leave the room so she could sleep. Despite her failed attempt to shield her eyes with her arm and pretend to be asleep, he saw through it.

Hermione shook her head from under the poor excuse of a forearm she used to hide her consciousness with.

"No." She stilled him with her shielding hand before getting out of bed to look for another layer to wear.

Picking up his discarded shirt, she draped it on without bothering to button it completely.

"I can't sleep anyways." She knew why she couldn't go back to sleep just yet. "I'll put a pot of coffee on."

She needed distance from him for a second and she needed to be the one that created it.

* * *

She brought him the first cup before retreating to his balcony. Try as she might, she couldn't find a way to get the thoughts out of her head.

They had spent years resisting real change. Where normal people grew and progressed together, they made every effort to be in stasis and in some ways move backwards while moving forward.

So, she knew that she was seeing the sign things were headed towards change again. It was like cultivating a corpse plant. The final product was a bittersweet foul accomplishment to effort made and while it might have had a technical reward, it was a twisted selfish reward that maybe only those involved would want. She could let things grow while suppressing what she could and start anew once she hit reset again, assuming it was possible again.

She knew that the reason she didn't change, the reasons why she saw him less and less was for the very reason that she was holding off this moment.

So here she was looking to revert backwards again. She was opening the door to go backwards, the door that was holding back that point between them where they could grow together.

The point where they might actually be together without the conditions and silent secrets..

It was a torrent of familiarity that catalyzed to her staying at his flat more in the last two months than the last few years. She got nostalgic of their youth and she only had herself to blame for leading him down the road he was on with her actions.

The next step was coming and she knew it. He would one day want to go back to her place and she wasn't ready this time.

This was no longer the point in her life where she stayed near muggle London and shared a flat with a muggle. No, her home was magic adjacent and while her muggle neighbors might not notice, the magical ones would know it was him and if that wasn't enough, her home was the holy grail of knowing her.

She wouldn't be able to say the stray telling object was someone else's. She would have to tell him the whole truth rather than guarded and filtered details.

"Come back to bed." He must have finished. He simply didn't switch work off when his mind was on it. She felt him wrap something around her. Looking down, it was his coat.

"Soon." She didn't like how she was uncertain now.

"You're freezing." She had forgotten a warming spell and hadn't even noticed.

"Sorry." The cold really didn't matter to her as it was what gave her physical space from him when she first stepped out.

"Can't have you getting sick, wouldn't remember what to do." She vaguely remembered a few times she had been under the weather years ago when he was around more.

He gave her a peck on the frozen cheek then but made no move to get back indoors. Instead, he joined her on the bench and pulled her closer before placing the warming spell.

It was sweet. It was the man she separated from the boy in her youth. She sighed into him losing her fight against compulsion and hopeful habit.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" She knew he wasn't blind, he might have let things go but that didn't mean he didn't notice. The problem was he was asking now.

She was being obvious with her worries. She was being reckless. He was at that point with her and rather than turn and run back, he took baby steps again. He pushed where she didn't before. She wanted things to be, to not change. She learned how to live with how they were, she wasn't ready for change.

"Things." Them.

"Buying, using, having?" A hint that he could try and buy away her worries if it truly was a thing.

"No." She wasn't ready to hear what he might have to say so she traded her worry for something trivial. "Just work and whatnot."

"Oh." He was disappointed, he had been expecting a revelation, something giving to her.

"There's a coalition of groups that's doing fundraising for advocacy of underage muggleborns." It was true. It was publicized to muggles as a chance to help special children who need a voice like some teenage crisis project.

"Want me to make a contribution?" She mentally laughed at that. The Draco Malfoy that others knew would sooner be expected to laugh in their face before even asking what he might get out of it and then maybe consider giving a knut, if even.

"No, I just haven't considered if I had anything to contribute." Aside from her real name and the potential of asking Draco to help out muggleborns, no, she had nothing to contribute.

He nodded at that.

"If you change your mind, let me know."

They had watched the sun rise that morning before going back to bed.

She wasn't ready for it to change. She wasn't ready to know that once upon a time, before war, before growing up, they were bitter and petty towards each other on a good day.

* * *

Hate.

It all came down to hate.

God did hate hurt.

The touch to her head was just a reflex to what her mind told her while her body screamed at her with every movement. She ached and the dull pain that grew on its own accord made her feel alive and dead to the pain.

She didn't have to look to know that there was blood on her fingers. The vile substance that coated her fingers and ran down her arm wasn't innocent virgin blood that saw its first violent act. It was old abused blood that was now forced to be scarred with another act against the body it supplied.

It was her blood. It was blood that had been through worse and it still revolted her. The bile lodged in her throat refused to come out due to habit from years hiding her disgust to put on a brave face.

Constance vigilance was more than a matter of safety in identity, it was safety as a whole and complete safety was an illusion that made people forget about hate. She had been vigilant about who she was but didn't consider that she was attending an event that was inherently a target.

She knew she shouldn't close her eyes just yet but the weight of her head was getting to be too much. The undoubted warm trickle she initially felt seemed cold against her skin and she knew it was a bad sign.

Looking around, she saw muggles and witches and wizards alike in various states of injured.

She had woken that morning willing to switch shift with a coworker who had a personal matter and saw her as the only option and didn't take no for an answer. If anything, she had figured it would let her go to the fundraiser in Manchester. It was some early Halloween carnival and she was in a need to get away even by that much. She need to force herself to get away and more importantly get away from Draco before she had time to formulate what next or more specifically, not next.

When she left work and the cool breeze mixed with the clear night had given her a second wind despite the long day at work. She felt energized and fought to use it with Draco. Popping home to change she knew she had to go out or the restlessness would settle into her and somehow she would be at his flat.

The night had been lovely.

Sure she might have looked out of place and pathetic being alone but she needed alone time where she could. She needed to enjoy her life as it was before the potential of Draco forced there to be a them of a new variety.

She arrived as things started getting lively, bigger crowds were starting to trickle in and some saw her and gave her space and a few even approached to speak about her role in the war. She remained polite but made it clear that it was all in the past before walking off from whomever.

It was such an innocent setting she didn't stop to thing about how muggles might not have had the power of magic but they were just as adept to surviving in the world.

One way muggles had power was that it was harnessed via electricity from all forms and used for mundane things, good things and other things of use as well as pain and death.

Death came from a multitude of weapons, even something as simple as pen. Maybe that was why it never completely crossed over to the magical world, pens were just another weapon. They carried the written word as well as were small thin objects that could pierce skin and lodge into the body.

"You're hurt." She heard someone approach then. They were poking at her wounds. No doubt she should've tried harder to find aid but it was hard to be focused when shocked.

"Yeah." She didn't even know if she could muster a wince.

The explosion had come from behind her but she was close enough to be thrown back into one of the stalls.

The initial wave of pain washed over her before she stopped feeling the blast. It was then she feared how close she had been to the explosion.

Among the wreckage, it rained down propaganda. Obviously there was still one person who was against a link between the muggle world and the magical one.

The hate went both ways.

Only a muggle would use an explosive in such a way. Magical people used explosives, meant to blast and only so.

Only a muggle would make a bomb, bombs blasted damage and could be dirty and lacked finesse and could be reckless if the maker chose to do so.

She wasn't dying and she knew it.

Dying was an end.

She had been on the receiving end of near death experiences many times before. Life didn't flash before you when you died. Mortality griped you when you're dying. The realization that life was over soon was what came to her when she had been dying before.

No, she would be fine. Someone had found her and she would be fine. She wasn't dying and she didn't let her mind mull over her own mortality.

* * *

"Oh my god."

She ached. Giving her parents a tired gaze, she could see the worry through her sliver of sight.

"I'm fine mom." She resisted the urge to tell her mother that she'd been through worse. Her mother never liked knowing how bad the war had been.

"We saw it on the news and didn't think you were there. It wasn't till they called … oh god." Her mother was griped with fear that was rationally irrational. As far as Hermione knew, it was a one off instance. This was not Voldemort's third coming and was more the product of someone disgruntled with a grudge than someone with an agenda and mission.

"They said you'll be fine and they want to keep you here a few days." She knew it was standard practice given the extent of her injuries. She had woken to see that it was bad. They had cut into her and most likely there would be a scar to prove it. That was the problem that muggles posed to witches and wizards, surgery. Where muggles accepted the thought of cutting into the human body, witches and wizards thought it a nasty business that was depraved and perverse.

Looking around the room of the muggle hospital, she would have to wait for the ministry to step in and have her transferred to St. Mungo's and they could give her a few potions to fix with would take days if not weeks for muggles.

She didn't have to wait long.

Somewhere between the hazes of pain medication that worked through her system, she heard Harry speak to her parents.

It would be taken care of.

* * *

Work gave her the week to recover and told her to take more days if needed. She was one of their own and it didn't do to rush her back despite the potions she took.

So here she was on her day off in the kitchen with Ginny again. Harry had been sent off to drop the kids off with Ginny's parents so they could go out for a quiet night out.

"You sure you're fine to go out?" Ginny worried like a mother.

"Right as rain." She kept back the need to wince with certain movements.

"Harry said it was some crazed muggle." Of course it was, even Death Eaters didn't know how to use muggle bombs. "Amazing how much damage was done."

She saw the pictures, she was but ten feet from the blast. It was sheer luck of all the stalls between her and the blast that kept her from being hurt any more than she was.

"Yeah." All that hate and waste.

"Seemed his kid was a witch and had died during the war." The damned war. "Never got over it."

Even so, it wasn't an excuse.

She nodded and waited for Ginny to vent the frustration of how cruel the world was universally.

"What did he say?"

He? "Who?" She didn't notice the change in topic and it showed as Ginny shook her head.

"Your guy." She didn't bother to give him a proper title as there wasn't one. "Is he helping? He should be there for you."

"No." She hadn't seen Draco in over a week. Between the explosion, hospital and the initial recovery days at her parents, she just didn't have time. It also didn't help that the hospital she was admitted to hadn't sent over all her things to St. Mungo's so she would have to go over and pick up her mobile herself.

"Why not?" Ginny was not pleased to know that. Hermione had been injured. The damned surgeon had to dig out a piece of wood from her abdomen. It wasn't a particularly large piece or drastically mortally wounding but it was damaging and required immediate attention that night.

"I hadn't gotten round to seeing him or calling him for that matter." Mainly due to lack of a channel to do so that wasn't magical and telling of who she was.

"Then owl him and tell him." That was the problem with telling Ginny he was a wizard. Ginny now had a whole new perspective of what was a good idea.

"I'll contact him when I'm better." It would do no good to tell Draco. She had been hurt and she was recovering. It wasn't as if he could prevent what had already come to pass. She was perfectly capable of recovering without aid so there was no point in telling him yet.

"You're better enough to tell him, so tell him." Ginny started but didn't have a chance to finish as Ron and Harry came into the kitchen ready to go.


	9. Chapter 9

So happy I actually got the editing done. Pretty sure there's something I missed but it's at least 99% where I want it. Oh wells, took me a month to the tweaking to some later chapters to flow better and I've neglected what needs to go up first. On a good note, I have a total of a 8 hour layover in a week so short of not finding an outlet, I can work on editing good and proper.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 9**

He hadn't heard from her in weeks.

Exactly nineteen days.

Looking at the time, it was past midnight so day nineteen had come and gone. Day twenty had started and he wasn't sure how he would look upon the clock should day twenty pass like nineteen did.

He didn't take much stock in it the first few days.

Then as the first week closed and she hadn't so much as sent him a message of any kind, he resorted to counting the days to keep from letting his mind run away with him.

She had started the habit of sending him random messages but her last message was fourteen days ago.

_I might be by tonight._

She didn't stop by.

He had chalked it up to work that she couldn't make it. Something important was taking her time and she couldn't be pulled away so it was only fitting that he was given second priority, but then he never remembered a time she had actually never shown without a message of some kind. Even the noncommittal promises she broke through the years had a message of that followed with some reason of why. He didn't think they had deteriorated so quickly to the point that he didn't deserve a notice.

So when he tried to call her a few days later, he was met with her voicemail as she didn't pick up. He was worried at the fact that the call didn't even ring through and had gone directly to her voicemail. As he hadn't a reason to panic aside from fear, he couldn't run off like a maniac just yet. So he hung up the many times her voicemail picked up, there was no point in leaving a message unless he had good reason to. He feared a mystery of his own creation and it was irrational and leaving a message would only make it worse in the long run. For all he knew she was busy with work and friends and family or some sort and just hadn't the time after all.

_ Dinner this week?_

He gave in and had asked but didn't get a response. At least with a txt, it would only be words and would lack any irrational fear his voice could give.

Her lack of response was getting his mind to bad things.

Once was work, twice was a bad week.

Nineteen days and counting was a bad sign.

* * *

_Jean?_

He was worried and it was his only link.

"Draco, drink up tonight?" Draco nodded at Blaise as he hid the device back into his pocket.

"Sure." He needed to get his mind together. He couldn't keep letting images of her hurt somewhere to comfort him. It was just sick and he was being irrational.

She was busy, that was why she hadn't responded, he had to believe it to be true.

Her phone broke and she didn't have time to replace it, even that just had to be true.

"Seems Granger's taking time off of work." Blaise mentioned quietly over their table.

Draco nodded as he gulped down his drink. He needed someone to stop his mind from running away from him.

"So?" He rarely kept up with those he went to school with. Blaise was his coworker and aside from those within his family's circle, he didn't really venture outside of it.

"Seemed her guard dogs are plotting to keep her off of work." If it was suppose to be interesting news for Draco, he didn't care. His mind was focusing on Jean and keeping his fears at bay.

* * *

It had taken a few days after she gotten back from her parent's place to finally get around to picking up her phone. Given the pages of documents and questioning she had to endure to get her property back, it was a wonder how they never included her mobile in the first place. It was dead and she would need to charge it when she got home.

Thanking the attendant, she left the building with a yawn.

Work had sent her home early. It seemed she was considered a handle with care project among her coworkers. She was walking proof that one maniac could easily remind people of the thing they strived to move on from and forget. It was one thing to be looked on as a war heroine, it was another to see said heroine freshly battered about despite the healing spells, potions and surgery.

From the fact that muggles got to her first after the blast and the fact that ministry officials didn't intervene till after she was out of the operating room, she was damaged goods.

It was uncommon for a witch or wizard to have to be subjected to such a chain of events. Since the war, the Ministry had gotten very good at removing witches and wizards from muggle institutions when problems arose. While the new world after the war was accepting of all magical people regardless of origin, it was still very closed off and feared to let those magical be caught out by muggles. If anything, there was a silent fear of a muggle need for a witch hunt should they ever learn of how much damage had been done by the war.

She was once again a marked woman. She stuck out no matter if she did things as normal or not. She understood that the upper management of St. Mungo's had a placed a great regard for her wellbeing but it was mixed with those around her who carried a morbid curiosity of what happened. She had to still field through questions of her health and in some cases, some less than tactful coworkers wanted see the scar. As a result, there were just days she was more than happy to leave early.

Making a cup of tea and feeding Crookshanks, she settled into straightening her flat.

Ginny and her mother had both stopped in to water her plants and Crookshanks had been at her parent's till she came home.

Looking at the miserable offerings she kept in her kitchen, it was a sign she needed to get groceries.

Grabbing her coat, she checked the phone's status.

Half alive.

Half was better than nothing. She had told her mother she was picking up the phone and would call if anything came up. Mostly she said so only for her mother to know that she would have the device on her and in turn her mother could have a comfortable means to check in on her if need be.

Powering it on, she realized immediately that it was over three weeks since the incident.

It also didn't help through the cracked screen, there were clearly more than a few messages and missed calls.

She had forgotten.

She had told him she would stop by that night.

She never made it.

It was one thing to mention the possibility of seeing him but she had never stood him up before.

Would he ask?

Would he care?

Hermione could feel the pit sick feeling overtake her. Her empty stomach was not any happier by her sudden dread.

The twill of the phone as it powered on forced her to look at the screen.The last message came up then. It was from the morning.

_Let me know when you're not busy._

She sighed.

Relief washed over her. She didn't know she had even held her breath till the rush of air made her dizzy enough to have to steady herself on the furniture.

That was how she found herself dressed and in his flat.

She didn't think before apparating to his place.

He was home.

His outer robes were flung across the couch and the top of the decanter on the sideboard laid next to its counterpart.

Listening intently, she didn't hear him move about.

Dropping her bag, she headed towards the bedroom.

It was too early for him to be in the office. He wouldn't just leave work to come home to work.

She found him on the balcony and a light stench of Firewhiskey hung in air.

"Heys."

She didn't miss the overcompensated light tone he took. There was a bite to it and it was subtle enough to evoke the image of his younger self sulking.

Coming up behind him, she took the drink from his hand before downing the last of it. "Hey."

She peppered the back of his neck with a trail of kisses. She couldn't apologize for an incident she didn't want to explain. If he didn't know, telling him without a proper setup would only make things worse in the long run.

"Done for the day?"

She would never claim to know what he was thinking but she knew he was in a very foul mood.

"Can we not do this?" He was on the edge of questioning and she didn't want to deal with it.

He sighed before looking at the empty glass he once had. "Sure."

"Thank you." She walked around his chair and settled into his lap then. Nestling her head under his, she let his arms wrap around her. She would have to accept that he had a lingering hint of more than just one drink about him. He was more than annoyed and she would be stupid if she didn't realize it might have something to do with her.

* * *

"Let's go see a movie." They couldn't stay on the balcony all night not saying the things they wanted and should say to each other.

"Sure." He didn't care much of her request. He should've been relived that she came by.

* * *

Part of him should have been jumping for joy, but that didn't explain the twenty two days where he wasn't.

He let her drag him out of the flat to the theatre. He didn't care when she picked the movie.

He was glad she was back but even so, he noticed it. Something was off.

Something new.

She was on autopilot with him. It was one thing for him to sulk and do so but it was rare for her to do so to mirror him.

He could see the reserved way she moved about, something was on her mind.

When they went to dinner, she didn't show any particular interest in the food. Not a comment about anything interesting at work. No boring detail to give. Whether it was for lack of material to use, she just didn't want to share the neutral topic in detail

It was like talking about the weather, it killed time.

She stalled him through the night and led them to wander the streets till he finally gave in and said he was tired so they should head back.

She agreed and despite his attempt at seduction, she had fallen asleep within minutes of hitting the bed.

Pulling the cover over her, he grabbed a cup of coffee before heading to the grab the documents he brought home with him.

He could work in bed and she seemed too tired to wake any time soon.

* * *

Sleep had just started to take its grip on him and he had let it take control only to be shaken violently back to waking by it.

_Grrrrrooooaaan._

It wasn't him making the sound and he knew it.

Then he heard her whimper through his sleepy mind.

It wasn't the whimper of sex or a stubbed toe. It was distinct, he hear it. There was no denying what he heard no matter what he wished.

It was the sound of fear and pain. He had heard it many times in his life and he knew it for what it was.

Snapping his eyes open, he waited.

He wanted to believe that his twisted mind drew the sound out of the past he buried.

Then he heard it again.

Turning in the dark, he looked down sharply at her serene face to listen for the foul sound escape her lips again. He was daring it to anger him with what he knew he didn't want to hear again. He wanted to wait and hear silent slumbering from her, he wanted to let it be his crazed him that made up such a sound. He wanted to blame his broken mind for putting such a vile sound with her voice, he wanted to ignore the way the sound came from her was pure and unfiltered raw hurt, it dug into his mind despite only hearing it once.

He knew she was a relatively quiet sleeper, a few turns sometimes, a few bouts of light snores, even a bit of drool every now and then. Nothing among those traits were too remarkably noticeable to be considered a flawed habit. He listened and watched and wanted to accept a light snore from her as indication that he was just too twisted sometimes.

Occasionally she would let out a slight mumble but it was never consistent.

She didn't snore heavily that night or fidget too much, not that she normally did so more of less in the past.

Sitting up, he looked down at her. While there was a lack of the continual whimpering, what he saw was enough. She had shifted a few times and in turn her movements and his had moved the coverings of the bed and as well as the top she wore shifted for him to see.

All his dread and fear came back.

Even in the dark he saw it.

The glaring gash was red and daring him to think the worse, it was daring him to know that his worse was all in his mind and he hadn't a clue where it really came from.

Spanning the length of his palm, he didn't dare touch.

Slanted and red and angering him in a way his imagination couldn't, he knew.

The scar above her belly button wasn't there weeks ago, the marred skin turned his traitorous stomach.

He had their years as proof to tell him that there was no reasoning to the scar, there was no history of it being something he could have had missed over time. He remembered all the times he had held her, the times he kissed her, he had her body memorized in his mind and never once had he felt such an anomaly on her skin.

He knew all the places where the glamour didn't fit her turned form. He knew that along that seemly smooth left arm laid slight raises and falls in the skin that could only be described as a badly healed scar she didn't speak of. He remembered lingering on it once for her to push him away when his fingers overstayed their welcome. She didn't mind when he asked about the small scar just below her ankle as she readily told the story of her childhood follies.

He was not so dense as to have never known. He knew her body too well and he knew what was off limits and why.

Something had happened to her.

There was no way to write the new scar off as something good.

Good things didn't leave a scar.

Good things didn't cause her to whimper in the night.

Good things didn't make her turn so much in her sleep.

He simply couldn't not look at it.

He couldn't stop rehashing all the terrible things he thought might have happened to her.

Not only were some of them terrible, it didn't stand to reason how any of them might have happened and not been mentioned in the papers.

So that left him with one thought more terrifying than the rest.

Someone had been targeting only her and they got to her.

* * *

He couldn't sleep.

He didn't want to and he refused to sleep.

His mind wouldn't push out the image of her scar.

It mocked him with ever jagged turn on her skin.

He was Draco fucking Malfoy. People kept their distance from him, his name was under the family whose power and status was to be feared and revered.

No one dared to act out against a Malfoy.

At most, there were empty threats from those who had false beliefs of authority and power but in the end, no one truly dared. If there was something to be regretfully proud of, the dark reputation was built on solid ground that few questioned the validity.

That was the problem, he was thinking things as a Malfoy. It was just his name. He hadn't a clue to her real name. As far as the magical world was concerned, there wasn't a Jean Lagrange.

He had a short and long list of key players in the war that would incite violence from Death Eater sympathizers if given the right chance.

In the end, either he couldn't imagine how the chance might come to be or the sheer fact that no one on either list could've been her without having laundry list of more questions and a breaking story in the news.

What was it about her that could be twisted to be so terrible that even a decade past the war, she was a target? Or more specifically a target that someone would be so patient as to attack so far along.

He was almost ready to accept anything else as the reason.

A jealous ex from her youth, the unknown man he would hurt without hesitation.

A would be suitor who didn't know the meaning of boundaries, he would make sure they knew.

Just about anything.

No, that level of fear and pain was not something as simple as errant emotions of attachment.

That sound was something born out of direct need to inflict pain.

The soon to be dead man had to have knowingly committed the act and he would make sure they learned that no one was supposed to touch her.

He would make sure of it and she would tell him who it was.

He had let her have her secrets, he had let her live her life behind a mask. He humored her fears of discovery because she hadn't been caught.

Now that there was proof of something terrible and his willingness to look away was gone.

The time for being passive and trusting her to be safe in anonymity was over. Draco wound find the dead man and ensure that for once in his sordid life, his past was useful for something.

Draco Malfoy wasn't just a Malfoy in name only and he certainly wasn't the nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange for nothing. For once in his life, he was glad for his past, he was glad that someone had taken the time to teach him how to make another life suffer. It wasn't just his father's teachings of manipulation and the subtle arts of human nature that he was going to rely on, no those traits were only good for internal satisfaction. He was mostly glad to know that the very things his aunt taught him could finally be useful, the ways a person could be destroyed in every imaginable way that was external and was meant to drive the victim to beg for insanity, beg for the unattainable release of anything else. Aunt Bellatrix had taught him her warped views of what were the proper methods to getting something from another victim. For her, everyone was just another potential victim to a goal. She made sure he had learned from youth more than what pain could be. He had been a captive audience to more than one of her torture sessions, despite her rash and reactive nature he was taught how patience with a target was just as good as instant gratification.

Draco would make the cretin beg and suffer till he got satisfaction, no matter how he got it.


	10. Interlude: Because It Doesn't Matter

This is sort of a prequel to Had Bell and Watson Not Tried. I tried to put parts of this into it over the course of writing but nothing really fit. If anything, it's a defining point in why Draco doesn't try. Also, to put it out there I am implying that Hermione has a heavy dose of PTSD through the course of their history and it is part of why they are what they are. The lack of ending goes right along with it given that neither acknowledges together something is collectively wrong with everything. At this point, I am hoping that if you read this before Chapter 10, then Chapter 10 makes more sense.

**Because It Doesn't Matter**

He smiled.

The woman on his arm was just right.

She was beautiful and she looked exactly as she should on his arm.

He maintained his smile through the crowd. It wasn't a goofy lovesick smile, it was controlled and event appropriate.

His dress robes were perfectly pressed. They were of the latest trend and not a piece of his attire or himself was out of place. Giving the woman on his arm a glance, there was no doubt she was just as equally perfect next to him. Her own grace as she walked with him along with the beauty she radiated only enhanced his own appearance.

There was no doubt she had taken great care to be presentable, not only for her own sake but for his.

No matter what state she might be naturally, she would be perfect next to him. It was not an option to look anything less than perfect.

If anything, he would make sure that the night went just right on looks alone. That was the first step to making sure the rest of the night would be just as perfect.

* * *

She had played her part perfectly.

She had beauty, wit and a natural sense of when to be and how to be that could only be a product of breeding.

By all accounts he had a lovely if not perfect night.

A few photos would most likely grace the society section of the morning paper with captions of the flawless way they looked on each other's respective arms. Depending on who would be quoted, he could expect a nice line of how the night was the first of many.

Regardless of his own feelings on the event or the premise of the night, he was sure he pulled the night off as expected.

The right clothes, the right date, the right attitude and no doubt everyone couldn't help but keep their harsh thoughts back.

It was easier to make appearances what was expected when you're the well groomed one. Insults looked vile when everyone else saw perfection.

If anything, his parents could not complain that he didn't make the effort. He arrived on time and left when expected and not a single movement or expression was out place to be misinterpreted by anyone.

Hell, he was polite to every last person that crossed his path regardless of how much he hated to talk to a few of the bricks that wanted his attention.

So he finished the night with a polite departure for both him and his companion and while her mind saw one ending, he saw another ending to the night.

When she ran her hand over his back to hug him, he smiled politely at her before escorting her home.

He would not end their night in public for all to see.

Not only were there too many about watching for a good show and hoping for him to screw up, he certainly didn't like his personal moments displayed so publicly.

So when they arrived at her door, she edged to give him a proper night's kiss.

What she didn't realize was that the rumors were true about his need to guard his private life.

He moved at his own pace and while there had been times he was a spectacle in the past, it seemed those days of public showings were less and less.

So at her door, she thought things were private enough to draw out a display of his affection.

It was not their first date and from what she felt that night, it would not be their last.

So when he turned away from her intent to evoke a kiss and her lips met his cheek, she knew something wasn't right.

She tried to smile innocently and tried to not let her shock and anger show but she was not prepared for such a coy act. If anything, there was only one other way to end the night and if it failed than she knew she was wrong about him and them.

"Would you like to come in, it'll be just us." She was being brazen and blatant but eyeing the edges of her view, she wandered if he had caught some prying eye keeping him for letting his guard down.

He didn't hesitate to answer and his firm response gave her all the answers she needed.

"No, it's late." He smiled down at her and she felt like a fool. "I hope you had a good time."

With a slight nod, he pushed the door she had unlocked earlier and motioned for her to enter before turning and making his way out of her life.

She watched him go wondering if the last few weeks had been a mistake.

She had thought she had done everything right. She was always the kind to not leave the house without making sure she was prepared for what might come.

So when she met him one afternoon and he graced her with more than a glance, she felt uneasy but knew that an extra glance was more than just that.

She had made her way across the room daring herself to be introduced and was egged on by his mother who had been at his side that day. The older woman had even given them room to get to know each other and given that he hadn't made a hasty exit, she had been that much more ecstatic at the chances.

So when the first date had been offered, she jumped at the chance at what could come. It was the chance for excitement, the chance for joy, the chance for something new and delicious knowing that Draco Malfoy had a reputation for the best of everything and the most of everything.

He more than delivered with a refined air of perfection that she instantly wanted to stay addicted to. She wanted to make it past date one and when date two magically came to her doorstep, she jumped to make it to date three.

She knew he was a catch to be coveted and to prove that no one else could be better and he could only be with her.

So when date four had ended with him returning her to her own doorstep and a peck on her forehead, she knew she should have questions but wanted date five in hopes that something more was to come.

So she pushed date five to be the benefit his family was hosting at the manor. She wanted to be on his arm, she wanted to look the part she wanted him to see her as.

For the night she felt like her future was in sight and each step was one more step closer to it.

But then there she was, on her doorstep after date five with him on his way home regardless of her own efforts.

* * *

He knocked.

It was late and he didn't dare ring the bell. Billie was a grouch when woken and given the woman's sporadic sleep pattern and the likelihood she would answer the door, he really didn't feel like having to endure the potential verbal abuse or assault on his hair or person.

He had tried to call ahead before his night started but was met with Jean's voicemail and had settled to sending a message via txt to let her know he would be by.

He waited to listen for any sign of movement to the relatively tiny flat on the other side of the door.

When it was clear that no one would be moving about, he knocked again with a bit more force.

Again, there wasn't any sign of movement to his action and for a second he contemplated going home.

But then he realized that he didn't want to and debated the pros and cons of actually ringing the bell.

Of both sides of the action, there was a longer list of cons but going against rational thought, he rang the bell.

This time, his action was met with a scuffle of movement.

He could hear a voice and through the muffling of the door, he dared to think it was Jean.

He was instead met with Billie shooting him an exasperated look.

The shorter lanky girl hand one ear bud to her left ear and looked slightly put out by the fact that she had to answer to his face.

"She's not in." Billie eyed him up and down taking in the fact that he was very dressed up and was every bit the refined posh puff she called him to his face and behind his back the few times he over heard her talk to Jean about him.

Despite his long night, he looked as perfect as he did from when he set out many hours earlier.

"I see." He didn't want to make things worse but he had to try. "Can I come in and wait then?"

He hadn't establish that he was expected and given that Billie didn't give any sign that Jean wouldn't be back, he had a chance.

"You could." Billie eyed him again but didn't move to let him in. If anything, the magenta haired girl leaned on the door as if expecting a magical reason to let him pass.

"So…" He tried to motion behind Billie to the snackbox size flat but Billie didn't seem to care.

"So you can tell me why I would let you in." The grin that came over the exasperated girl only filled him with dread.

He knew he was walking a fine line when he came to the door and he knew when he had set out many hours earlier from his own flat that the end of the night was the true part of the night he cared for.

Running a hand through his controlled hair, he gauged the level of detail and sincerity he would have to invoke.

"Because I'm harmless." A point that many others wouldn't agree with but Billie's exposure to him was very limited and she might buy that reason.

"Not good enough." Despite the playful tone that she used, he knew he was screwed. He had left weeks prior in a huff from Jean and had literally barreled past Billie who had entered the flat to hear the tail end of an argument.

Shaking his head he didn't know how to continue without being a prat or a tosser or a liar or worse, a fool.

"You're right." He didn't doubt whatever edited version Billie had heard had painted him in the right light for the treatment he was receiving.

Sighing he pulled a rather larger than normal envelope and passed it to the gatekeeper. "Could you let her know I was by? I'll have the mobile with me and she could call when she gets in. If anything, tell her I really would like to see Cyprus."

Billie at least gave him enough of a chance to take the envelope and he could only hope she would pass it on to Jean.

Turning, wanted to believe he could walk away without being a complete idiot in his movements.

"She's gone off with some friends for the weekend."

Turning around, he looked back at Billie who only grinned at him. Shrugging in his direction she held up Jean's mobile.

His face felt like it had dropped to his stomach despite the fact he maintained a calm exterior.

"Left the mobile, seems the battery's shot and can't hold a charge. Don't know when she'll be back but I'll let her know you were by."

With a pixie grin, Billie closed the door to his shock.

He had felt like the fool at the door trying to not look like the idiot who made a mistake only to be treated like a tosser all because Billie wanted to screw with his mind.

Had Jean's roommate told him that from the start, he might have felt more assertive and known what to do next.

Looking that mobile he used earlier, he realized he had been trying to communicate to dead air.

* * *

Draco knew he was wrong but he also knew Jean wasn't right.

It had been an innocent day as it could have been.

He had shown up unannounced knowing she had said she would be busy that day. He never really pried for too much details of her mundane life but it was in the mundane that he got glimpse of her real self.

It was all the other bits that he cared about, the parts she didn't outright tell him and the parts that put him on edge.

He had tried to give her space and respect her wishes when she told him she didn't like talking about the war and at first he didn't want to either. They had met on the streets and had started off having fun. It wasn't like they were in some support group intent on changing each other's lives. So he hadn't minded at first when she gleaned over her years before and during the war.

So at best, he had a few tidbits once in a while that came from her randomly.

Had he known that things would end so chaotically that day, he might have been inclined to wait another day to see her.

No, he had arrived to find her fresh from the store with the week's groceries and a list of things to do, the muggle way.

He lent a hand to doing the manual task of putting everything in its place but cheated her list along but popping out quickly to call one of the manor's elves to finish the task of straightening the flat and getting her laundry and whatnot along.

So despite him delaying her groceries along, when she stepped out of the kitchen, everything else was done and she didn't have a reason to not pop off with him for a few hours for dinner.

Promising to return her at a reasonable time, he knew if he led her along with a calculated spontaneity, he would have her all to himself all night for as long as he wanted.

He let her pick the restaurant but he picked the way they went. Making sure to pass a few well placed notice boards, he took care to slow their walks as they passed each one. He skimmed over what was posted as some were prone to be repeated on the next few boards. So by the time the passed the last one before the restaurant, he had a few good clues as to what could be next after dinner.

Hindsight told him he should've left well enough alone and settled for just dinner but he was a greedy man.

So when he started to ask how her day had been, he was quick to steer it towards what she might have read in the local muggle papers and from there he pushed in the idea of some stargazing lecture that was taking place that night. It was hosted by the local university and while he wasn't keen on the idea, it sounded like it had some romantic potential she would like well enough to extend her time with him.

If anything, most of the lecture had been informative and at one point he was quick to be smug when his own constellation had been identified among the many that littered the night sky.

In the calm and peaceful patch of grass they occupied, lost in the words of their guide on star identification, neither noticed when the pack of local teens had readied themselves to crash the event. They were both taken with shock when a round of loud popping from fireworks and cherry bombs went off ruining the mood.

He was quick to ready himself to curse the offenders but noticed she was even quicker to draw her wand.

Not only that, but he was forced to notice that her first reaction was more than just a drawn wand but a round of protective spells faster than he could recognize them.

Looking at her then, he saw the flash of fear and dread that came over her and while he told himself it was gone just as fast, he learned later that it wasn't.

She had left the spells up till after the teens had been hauled off and they had called it a night.

If anything, she had let him stay the night so he was more than willing to not dwell on any other detail given he considered his efforts a success.

He had gone from having her cut off for the day to having her undivided attention for a good chunk and the bonus being that her flat mate was gone for the night so he didn't have to worry about hiding any wand waving from prying muggle eyes.

So somewhere in his happy slumber that night, he was rudely woken by her thrashing in bed to the point he was tossed to the ground.

Through his attempt to figure what happened to land him on the ground, he realized she was having a nightmare. It wasn't the kind where innocent bunnies became monsters as she wasn't prone to those kinds of silly things.

No, the incoherent mumbles sounded worse. It was distorted screams that barely left her throat and he jumped back to bed trying to wake her. He yelled only to be met with more mumbles and tried to shake her a bit but was met with her thrashing to the point of being nearly pushed off the bed again. So when he finally gave her a violent enough shake to wake her, she was quick to open her eyes as he was sure the force he used would leave bruises. He would have worried about the bruising later but more relieved she was awake.

The only problem was she had drawn her wand to him in the instance she woke and was midway through preparing to cruse him when he yelled for her to stop. Had he been a second slower to realize what she had done, he might have learned the hard way what she had been ready to cast.

It was then she was fully awake and for the first time in the year and some odd months he had been with her, he was honestly afraid of her. He was afraid of what he didn't know about her as he was sure the woman he fell asleep with, while a mystery she didn't seem the kind to curse first and worry later.

When he asked about her nightmare, she blanked her expression and he knew she lied in telling him she didn't remember. Despite her quick attempt to get back to sleep and telling him to do so, he kept his thoughts with him till the morning.

It was the morning when it went from bad to worse.

She wasn't outright jumpy or any different than normal than morning but he had known something wasn't right and was out looking for signs.

When he closed the door to the bedroom loudly and her shoulder stiffened, when he pulled the chair to the kitchen table back hard enough to knock into the cabinet, she literally froze at the sound.

He had known that he started to push the topic but he didn't realize how adamant she was on her stance.

He tried to be calm and reasonable but she maintained that her stance that her secrets were important to her and that everything was fine as they were.

In the end it came down to three points that she stood her ground on.

She kept her glamour because it was her choice.

What happened during the war was not something he was to try and draw out of her.

And anything related to the two was her decision to handle how she saw fit.

He could understand that the war was a traumatic time for many, his years through it wasn't a field of flowers and bunnies to look fondly back on.

But what he didn't like was knowing the woman he slept with had drew her wand on him at least once out of reflex and in the span of less than a day, she was on edge and did nothing to acknowledge that something had bothered her or even tried to work out her problems.

He wanted to say he pushed her because he cared about her but he knew he did so because it bothered him in general. It wasn't a matter of her well being but a matter that he didn't like knowing danger lurked in his life. So he didn't drop the topic at all that morning and at every turn when she thought she made her point clear, he pushed.

It got the point she got fed up with his pushing and outright started to lash out at him. So he yelled at her for being unreasonable and she yelled at him for asking for things he hadn't a right to ask of her.

In the end, he where he tried to reach out, she went in circles telling him to take what he could get or get out. As far as she was concerned, he should have been happy with the way things were with them.

She wasn't like any of the other women who crossed his path, she didn't tie him down to tradition or kept him on the short leash of a relationship. She let him come and go as he pleased and she didn't question anything in that regard. It was how they were. As far as she saw, he liked the arrangement, so Draco asking for more about her and her past was like asking for a change in everything else. Regardless of how worried he was about his own safety and her mental state, he stormed out that morning.

He stormed out on principle because he knew that regardless of his worries for himself, she had disregarded his worries on her. Most women liked being thought of, most women liked the guy they slept with to give a damn about their very being but she didn't. She had outright told him he hadn't a right to want her well in any sense that wasn't related to them as them. Her as an individual and the things that were wrong were not to be his concern.

The problem with his concern was that where she was involved, he hadn't a clue what he wanted sometimes. Sure she made things easy for him. He didn't have to attend uncomfortable events with her or be dragged out as a couple to put them on display for the world. If anything, what he had with her was fun, exciting but still private. He didn't have to worry about their upcoming trip to Cyprus making the gossip pages because somehow she didn't exist to the magical world and neither of them went running to the press shouting to be heard. So he liked what he had with her in that respect.

For that, he didn't mind that she wanted to keep her glamour, if anything it made their private life that much more easier to keep private.

He couldn't change her history with the war and wouldn't. It was the only way for her to look at him and know that he might be damaged but he wasn't broken.

It was just her stubborn way about how things were that made him livid.

* * *

So when he met some witch who was everything Jean wasn't, he gave himself the reprieve to see the other side of things.

Belinda was literally not Jean and for the first date, he felt liberated. He knew going in that almost nothing was off limits and Belinda made sure by the second date that there really wasn't a limit to her expectations. She didn't hold back and she was everything he was use to expecting dating to be. A pain and an obligation to all the possible goodness. Belinda looked at him as a future where Jean looked at him as a momentary lapse in life.

By the third date, he knew he was fucked. He had found a new witch and while she was ready to jump into his life head first, he realized he wasn't ready for that future. He didn't like knowing that for a moment, if he wanted to over look the details of the who, he could change the what of his life that much more easily.

So he cooled things off with Belinda hoping that if he gave it one more go, maybe he could see some reasoning to something.

* * *

He did.

He knew that Jean was a problem. She was trouble as well as troubled but he had history with Jean that made him hide such sins to their relations. So he went back to her flat wanting her to know he would take what he could get. She had been right that he wanted things easy. He didn't like fuss and he didn't like being jammed into the future by someone else. Belinda reminded him of that future where he was one some track of life because he was forced rather than of his own doing.

Jean didn't do that, his own growth had little consequence to her and his own goals and direction in life was his. She didn't see any of that as having direct bearing on them and didn't expect it as such. So Jean's easy made life easy, it was the nature of their relationship that was hard. There were limits and he wasn't use to such limits or how to deal with them.

Belinda's easy ways he knew of, the path to the future was just a matter of hitting life milestones and people were filled in where appropriate. It made him feel robbed in life.

No, he liked the easy that was Jean.

The silence of not pushing that went both ways. The way she let him be to find himself and not drag him on in life. She didn't expect him to support her goals or obligingly grin and bear what she did with herself. Jean supported the idea that they were two individuals that had a middle ground. Sometimes the middle ground was common but it wasn't forced.

So he left her the details to Cyprus with a note of where to meet him and the specifics of the trip. If she was still game to give something of her time, he would do the same.

* * *

She had gone to her parents for the week after he left. Her mum had the flu and Hermione wanted to be away from her flat.

Billie had spent a few days pestering her about her fight with Draco. Given that her roommate had walked in to hear her yell at him about the freedoms and confines of the relationship, it left a world of imagination for Billie to work with. Since Hermione hadn't outright denied that Draco was free to date who he wished, Billie was quick to question how two people could still keep things casual after a year. Not to mention a long conversation how Hermione could not ask if he had anyone else on the side. True being, Hermione didn't have to ask, she had the papers to do it for her.

Her flatmate had long thought they were exclusive and admitted to wondering when she would move out and into his place. It seemed in Billie's mind, she and Draco were destined for a path of ever after. After telling Billie that it wasn't that way numerous times and that regardless of how serious things looked, she wasn't ready for that in her life.

Not to mention, she really didn't feel like hashing out Draco's accusations as a basis for why to Billie.

As far as Hermione was concerned, Draco was the unreasonably crazed one. She had a right to want to be safe and it wasn't her fault she spent years sleeping with a wand in reach. If anything, he should have been glad she didn't still sleep with her wand on her person.

If anything, Hermione was more annoyed at Draco's tales of her actions. He had spun her habits of safety as some wild lapse in judgment that sounded like she was a mad killer at any given trigger. She knew she had woken to him shaking her and if anything, that was enough of a reason for her to wake with wand in hand. So he shouldn't have been too angry.

Given that her disrupted sleep was his fault, he should have realized she would be sleep deprived that morning. Of course she was somewhat off that morning, he was being loud and annoying and pestering and making up stories about her mannerisms.

She was partly glad he left to cool off. Whatever had gotten into him needed to be sorted out and it wasn't something to do with her. She didn't like him using her as an excuse to his personal problems.

So when he didn't show up the week following, she assumed he was out working through his demons.

He would come back when and if he wanted and hopefully after he got his mind together.

So she didn't feel too worried about him when she went to stay with her parents for a bit. It gave her a chance to see them and to help her sick mother about the house.

When she popped back to the flat the week after and was met with the realization that Harry and Ron had wanted her to spend the weekend at the Burrow as they hadn't seen her in some time, she didn't really mind.

* * *

By the time she had made it back from the weekend, she saw Billie had left a stack of her mail, junk and all by the door. Sorting through the bits that mattered, she tossed the trash before making it to her room.

Noting that the lights were out and no one had run down the hall to ask about her days away, she knew Billie was out.

Looking at her once clear desk, she saw the envelop that marred the surface. It was from Draco.

Regardless of the lack of writing on the outside, she knew it was from him. The rich cardstock used had an air of importance that only he could muster even with plain paper.

Turing it over, she emptied the contents to see he had dropped off the details of their planned trip to Cyprus. She had told him she had a few days before the holidays and he tossed about the idea of them going off for a bit.

Reaching over to her mobile, she took out the replacement battery she had picked up earlier in the week and put it into the device before plugging it in to charge.

Looking over the messages she missed, she deleted the ones that no longer mattered before seeing the last one he left.

_I'm at the flat this week._

Looking at the time, it was late and since Billie was out, there was no one to know if she had come or gone but her.

Grabbing a set of clothes for the morning lectures, she apparated to Draco's flat. She would talk to him about the trip in the morning.


	11. Chapter 10

At this point, I'm going to put chapter 10 out so I can move on to the rest of the chapters. I've spent over a week staring down this chapter trying to make it follow along with chapters. If anything, I'm hoping to get up to chapter 16 out before the new year. If I can then I have a better chance of getting to chapter 24 by the end of January and this story might be complete before Easter, maybe.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 10**

She woke just barely after the sun rose. He watched as she made a whimpered turn to his side of the bed. There was a slight frantic searching of her arm for him before she sat up slowly to see him in the chair with a drink in his hand. If he had any delusions that she was fine, that was just another sign that things weren't. She wasn't the kind to be so insecure upon waking. She was normally calm and relaxed upon waking, short of being late she was the kind to gently roll herself awake.

He worried how many mornings she woke in the state she was in, one was too many. He wanted the woman who was strong, confidant, stubborn and seemed to be unaffected by the damaging effects of the world.

Something had scared the life out of her and he didn't like knowing that someone had knocked her down that much. She was a strong woman who grew her thick skin out of force and circumstance. He wanted to believe after all these years that she was done growing that skin because it was strong enough, now he knew better.

He was by no means a hero but for her, he would be the villain to hers. He would make an example of her enemies.

She eyed the decanter he had moved to the nightstand in the early morning, it was considerably emptier than the night before.

"I want the name." He knew he was seething but he had a long night to ponder if her safety and their way of life were worth murder. He wondered if it was even worth talking himself out of the things he would do to scum who hurt her. He wondered if he did this act, would she finally feel safe? Then he accepted he didn't care about what some lowlife meant in the big picture, he didn't care about what any ministry official might say or do or what letter of the law stated he shouldn't do. He didn't care if his reaction changed how they would be, as far as he was concerned, things changed when the dead man dared to hurt her. The damage was done and no matter if she was with him, he wanted and needed to know she was safe from a future attack and there was only one outcome to ensure that.

"What?" She played it cool, confused and dazed from her slumber. He wouldn't let her stave of his need to end things without a solution. This time he would get something more than the brush off. She wasn't allowed to hide this one from him, he would be there for her this time.

"Give me his name Jean." He needed this. He needed the a truth to the things she hid from him. "I need to know who he is."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was confused. Draco was drunk and she wasn't sure what game he was playing at.

"I don't care the why. You could've killed his firstborn for all that matters." She shot him a confused look. "But no one hurts you." She gulped as she heard the force in his voice. "He won't live to see another day for hurting you."

"Oh god." She turned and buried her head in her hands. She could see the scar from the angle she sat up in. If she could see it, he could too.

"I want the name." There was murder in his voice and they both knew it.

"Draco, don't." She had to stop his mind from turning down that road or at least stop him for getting too far down it.

"I looked the other way because you were safe. I didn't ask because things were fine. Don't tell me to not when I can see what's happened." He was livid and he knew he was on the edge of lashing out at her to have an outlet. His voice was rising and soon he would be near shouting. He would start up the point of her paranoid ways soon.

She laid back on the bed. The color was draining from her face. She was sick at it all. Getting her wits about her, she sat up enough to move over to his side of the bed to reach for his hand.

Taking his glass from him, she poured herself a good shot before downing it.

He watched as she licked her lips clean of the amber liquid.

"I can't tell you his name." She had never bothered to ask.

"Don't make me find out the hard way." Part of her might have been happy to know he cared for her to such a point he would kill for her, but she couldn't ignore the murder in his voice. It was the voice of a man who was about to chuck it all for something he believe was greater than the rest of his life. Regardless, she couldn't and wouldn't let him walk that path just to make a point.

"I can't because I don't know his name." She hung her head to that. For all her veiled hints of wanted to protect herself, she had never realized that there were just some things she couldn't shield herself from in the muggle world.

"What?" He squeezed her hand then. Knowledge was power now and she was painting an image where neither of them might have it to use.

"I was in Manchester a few weeks back, in public." She looked up at him to make sure he was listening. "It was in a muggle park. The coalition I told you about had set up a carnival thing there and I thought it might be nice to see what it was like."

He felt like she was telling him some picturesque story knowing that the ending was so terrible, he knew he would still be angry.

"The man was angry. He was a muggle whose child died in the war. She was his only daughter and he was still angry after all these years." She resisted mentioning Harry's name, there was no power in that detail. At most, Draco might forget school day rivalries to call upon Harry for details but that wouldn't make anything better. "The Aurors told me that he had been waiting for the right time for years and when the carnival had come about so close to her birthday, he snapped." Oh the details she gave were too much, it painted a need for sympathy where she knew he didn't bear any for the attacker. If anything, she had to stop Draco from doing something worse than what had happened.

"He's in muggle custody." She didn't know where to fit in what exactly happened from there.

"Why you?" Draco couldn't be happy, there was no relief in sight. If she was the target, he knew it was irrational. If she wasn't the target, she shouldn't have been hurt.

"He made a homemade bomb." He knew the term. He had seen movies with her where such were used like fire spells. Magical bombs were harmless compared to muggle bombs. Magical bombs could be sold at joke shops and the powerful dangerous ones could level a building if it wasn't magically protected. Muggles had the ability to make bombs that could level whole cities. "It wasn't particularly good but it did the job. I was within range and the blast landed me on some broken wood."

His hand clenched harder against hers. She let him hold her hand out of fear that if she let go, he would carry out all the terrible things his voice promised.

"When the emergency responders found me, they had to take me to the hospital and then to surgery. There wasn't time for the ministry to step in to take me to St. Mungo's." It was somewhat true there. He didn't need to know the ministry dragged their feet on that.

She paused hoping that he had calmed a bit.

She was wishing for something in her words to stop the anger in him.

"A muggle?" His sneer was back. That sound that said someone wasn't even worth the dirt under him.

"I'm fine Draco." She need him to stop being angry. She needed him to focus that she was in front of him and not some victim.

He ghosted his free hand across her cheek before settling it on her shoulder.

"I can accept stray bludgers." He didn't like knowing she was hurt. "I can accept paper cuts and fucking stubbed toes and bangs against the furniture and all the damn times you run into something at work. Hell, even if you walk into a fucking door or that time someone opened a door in your face." He was still angry. "Tell me how I can let you go back out there? Tell me why I would let you go back to the damn muggles? Tell me what I have left if I can't find you?"

It was silent but they knew what he didn't say.

How would he live without her?

She lied.

She had no truth to give.

So she lied to him by not telling him things she wasn't ready to give.

What right did she have to guarantee anything?

"You have me now. I'm here, that should be all that matters and I'm not going anywhere."

She pulled him back to bed and held him. While she could feel his murderous eyes disappear, it didn't change the why behind it all.

When she fell back asleep next to him, she didn't know what the morning would bring.

* * *

She finally woke again to see the sun high in the sky and saw that he was still home, she knew that things had changed and she had to live with it. There was no going back from the night before and she knew she no longer had any control over them.

So she didn't ask why he hadn't left for work.

She sat across the table end of the kitchen island nibbling on her toast wondering if he would be fine when she left for work.

He could afford the luxury of staying home but she wasn't going to let his irrational ways stop her from going anywhere.

The problem was, her mind worried that when she left that he would run off and follow through with what his mind thought was the solution. She thought of how she might have to find him caught by Aurors doing the terrible things his voice promised. He was the kind of man who would always see that an eye for an eye was not good enough and while she knew it proved to be useful for him with work, this was one instance she was tempted to ask Harry to keep an eye out and risk exposing everything.

She had let him process the information through the day before realizing she would be late to work. He stayed home from work and had yet to leave the flat or send any missive out that wasn't to work. If anything, he was mulling. He wasn't plotting or scheming. He was coming to terms with what she told him and what he knew and wanted. Staying back wouldn't help him process any more than he was with her around. He would come to terms with the fact that random acts of terror and revenge were a part of the world. He would have to accept that whether directly a target or not, he had no way to keep it from happening in first place.

If anything, she only had herself to blame for building in his mind that she was a victim in the making.

_Will you come back to the flat after work?_

Part of her had planned to go home after work but she didn't. She said it was the fear he would act rashly if she didn't go. She told herself that he needed to see her or else he would lash out. She knew she needed him to worry over her rather than her worry about what he might do. She needed him to just hold her so that she could know he hadn't run off and done something terrible.

So she went home, grabbed a change of clothes, fed Crookshanks and headed over to his place.

She kept telling herself she did it because it kept him from that murderous look.

She did it because she didn't want the life of another on his hands because of her.

She did it because they needed it.

She promised him and she had to keep the promise till she couldn't, till it destroyed them.

* * *

It was nearing Christmas and she hadn't gotten round to Christmas shopping yet and was now being willfully lazy. The snow was coming down again and despite knowing that this would be one of the few times she had to go to the shops at a reasonable time, she hadn't the will to move from the window seat.

Hermione had woken to Draco making waffles and seen him off to work with the intent to get something done during the day. She got as far as making a list of people and gifts she needed to get but once the snow came down, she forgot about it altogether.

It wasn't till she went to get a glass of juice that it struck her.

When had she moved in with him?

She knew she still had her flat. She had gone there on her way home from work to feed Crookshanks and at one point he had mentioned for her to just bring her pet over but she made some excuse of how her familiar didn't like unfamiliar places.

She knew that she paid rent and checked the mail at her flat and thus she still had a home somewhere out there.

The only thing was, she was living at Draco's flat.

It was more than a toothbrush or a set of spare clothes.

No, it was the fact that she had noticed their laundry piling up and after a quick mention, she came back one night from work to find it done and a comment about the manor's elves coming by to straighten up.

There was a whole side in the wardrobe for her clothes and it was filled with both work and casual pieces. Her night reading was currently on the nightstand with the few they shared between them over the past month along with a mug of discarded coffee.

She rested her head against the cool window pane. If she was in over her head before, she was drowning miles under now.

From some grace of luck, she had yet to hear him speak of the holidays or plans in regards to them. Of course she hadn't been away from the flat for more than a day and even then, she came back to him rather than go to her own home. For all their lack of intent, she knew she was all but moved in with him in the span of a month.

She had to resist the urge to rock her head against the window. She kept crossing the line with him a lot recently and they were lines she wouldn't be able to step away from. A suspicious person would call it some demented manipulation of his but she knew she was to blame as much as he was.

Hitting her head against the window just enough to jolt her with a dull ache, she pushed herself off of the seat she occupied for too long.

She had to get out of the flat and anywhere else before she spent too much time thinking without a solution.

Grabbing her coat and locking up, she needed to go into muggle London and get lost. Sod it if he had a problem with her among muggles, she had enough problems, one more problem without a solution wasn't the worse that could happen since one of the worse had already.

Between turning the corner and adjusting her coat, she didn't notice till she finished muttering an apology that she realized how terrible a day she was having.

"Mr. Malfoy." She tried to suppress the gulp that threatened to slide down her throat but couldn't once she saw both of the elder Malfoys.

Draco was to his mother's left.

His father gave her a slight lift of his brow before deeming her beneath his time.

"Watch yourself." No matter the intent, the sneer was in his voice.

She shrank away enough to nod and quickly make her way to the lifts.

She didn't miss his mother's comments about youth and rudeness.

She could feel Draco's eyes follow her.

There was no doubt he caught the way her shoulders slumped and how she made every effort to keep her distance.

If she didn't have volumes of her life to answer to him, there was fact that she hadn't ever flushed out the image of his father as the man she saw in the Ministry that night so many years ago. No, there was too much of her teenage history that just made things harder to explain.

How do you tell the person you slept next to at night you were among the ones that helped put his father in Azkaban? No matter if it had been the right thing at the time, her actions then had affected his family on more than just the legal level.

As the lift doors closed, she breathed a sigh of relief only to look up to see his shocked expression.

Crap.


	12. Chapter 11

Snow can be the best and worst thing for the holidays. Kind of made traveling that much more terrible but it was the hazard of going home. Sadly the laptop battery was better used for making sure I get in rather than working on this. So I'm a bit behind on my goal, like two weeks and my crazy self started another story (shorter in plot). So if you get bored, feel free t wander over to Standing In, that one has a handful of chapters and is about half up. *sigh* This failed short story that's turned epic length is just going to be a while as the more I write to the end, the more I have to go back and check if I actually certain bits things in already or not. Have a good last day of the year all and with luck a better new year.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 11**

"Do you know her father?" He saw the change in her stance. She knew his father and there was a high chance it was not in a good way. Draco knew Jean too well and he knew his father even better, he couldn't deny how bad it could be.

"She just bumped into me, what more is there to know?" Was it better that his father didn't recognize her or that whatever horrible history he didn't know, his father might not consider important enough to remember?

"Oh." Another thing he wanted to ask her but would have to tack under the 'one day but closer to never' list.

"Come along Draco, I want to see what I need to have the elves send over for your flat." His mother had learned he hadn't gotten around to decorating for the holidays and she thought it was very spiritless of him. It was just him and Jean and with his general lack of interest and her lack of want to deck the place out, he didn't see how it was problem. He was sure Jean made a holiday inspired cake a few days prior that they had finished off, aside from that, there wasn't much yuletide merriness in either of them. She spent most of her time at work as it was or wherever it was she went to. He wasn't going to force or push her to decorate when he didn't want to put for the effort.

"What's left?" Turning to her mother, Hermione wasn't sure what more she could say. A few hours into wandering aimlessly without a purchase to justify the time she spent, she accepted her mother's offer to join her to finish her shopping.

In all reality, there were just a few left with the help of her mother. Aside from the obvious fact that she couldn't buy a gift for her parents with her mother present, the hardest one to buy for and the one she wasn't sure what to do about was for Draco.

"Not sure."

There was one or two coworkers she felt the need to buy something for in the interest of the holidays and suspicion she was on the receiving end soon.

"You father wanted to know if you when you would be by for Christmas." Her mother was use to her horrible workaholic need and always accepted that Hermione might work on any given part of the holidays.

"What time is dinner this year?" She wasn't scheduled to work. It seemed since the attack, they had tried to give her as much preferential scheduling as possible and it seemed no one had a complaint but her. She didn't work all these years to be good at her job to have them slap her career in the proverbial face some favoritism because she was Hermione Granger.

"The Abernathy's oldest daughter is back for the holidays so we're eating mid-afternoon. It seems Shelly might even bring her new boyfriend round." She didn't miss her mother's disappointed voice. Not only did she not mention dating to her mother or any interest to do so, her mother was of the opinion she gave her work too much rein over life as it was.

With her mother's acceptance of the war and a daughter who spent years running around for the greater good, her mother was of the mind that you only live once. If anything, she wanted Hermione to find that spark in life that wasn't just work.

"That's nice. I haven't seen Shelly or her siblings since Easter." Of course Shelly had a different boyfriend then. They were all lovely till a new one was brought home. Shelly was unlike Hermione when it came to dating. If Shelly was remotely bored or things looked like they were hitting a plateau, Shelly went out and got someone new. Shelly lived for experience where Hermione was done with experience.

"I'm sure he'll be lovely. I think her mother mentioned she'll be going abroad for part of her last year. Maybe he'll go with her." Her parents were Shelly's godparents as well as the Abernathy's other children and vice versa. She hadn't seen the Abernathy's in a while and didn't mind a potential large dinner if Shelly's brother and sister joined with their family. Hermione had no intention of sitting through any dinner feeling like the fifth wheel. At least it was at her parent's house this year, she didn't feel going down to Wiltshire, it was too close to the Malfoy Manor and this was not the year she wanted any lingering thoughts.

* * *

She eventually apparated her mother home before setting out to finish shopping for her parents.

She as in the mist of deciding which of the gift she picked would be best when he sent her a message.

_I'm thinking of getting us takeaway for dinner._

Looking at the time, she realized it was much later then she thought and nearing the shop's closing time.

_I'm almost done here._

She was so screwed. Grabbing her two choices, she joined the lines of people waiting to pay.

* * *

"Father?"

His parents had left hours ago and he was glad.

His mother had made the usual comments of how he didn't put enough effort into his home. The lack of cheer was her main point and he let her drone on about trends and what he could do and what he should follow. So by the time they went home, he was more than mentally and emotionally exhausted.

So here was his father coming out of the fireplace.

"I know her." For a fraction of a second, his mind felt like it would explode. "That woman from this morning, I know her."

His fears were coming head on and he was ready to hyperventilate at what his father might say. There was a certainty that he wouldn't be able to deny in his father's statement.

"How?"

The ways were many and he just knew it was bad.

"I don't know."

Then his mind slammed into the brick wall that was Jean. Looking up at his father, he could tell that what his father didn't know bothered him more than what he knew.

"What?" His father came all the way back to his flat to torture him?

"I've seen her before Draco." And Draco saw her almost every day. "Be careful. There is something not right with her. I doubt she lives in this building and if the feeling I got was right, she didn't act that way for no reason. She ran for a reason." With that he watched as his father checked his wards. "It might bode well to stay at the manor for the holidays till we have someone improved the wards here."

He had to laugh at that. From his fear that his father was the aggressor to Jean, it was now his father who thought of her as some would be aggressor. The complicated cosmic joke was getting worse the more he knew and the less he could understand. He couldn't help his terrible view of how silly it was.

"I've been seeing her father." His father looked on suspiciously at that. "I've been dating her." It was a close to a description as he could give that could convey the bulk of what he was with Jean in the simplest term.

"So earlier?" Lucius Malfoy was more than confused at his son's news. At last check, Draco was deeply single but his days of a new woman at every whim had ended. As far as Lucius knew, Draco might have had a quiet fling or two in private but the days of flaunting mistakes for the public were long over.

Draco knew he was going to tell his sire details that even he couldn't explain. Pouring them both a drink, he nudged it into his father's hand.

"Trust me, you will need it." With that, he motioned for his father to take a seat before putting the decanter between them. There was no point capping the container as history proved thinking of Jean drove him to drink.

"Why?" His father was now less than pleased and the frown showed. Draco felt like the boy who ran home for the holidays having to admit being inferior to Gryffindors. Only this time, rather than lack of ability as an excuse, he had to admit willful ignorance.

"Aside from the fact that she's a muggleborn?" The frown was making home on his father's brow then.

"Not to mention I've been seeing her for about…" He counted the years on his fingers then before taking a gulp of his drink. "ten years, going on eleven this spring?"

His father was not happy as he watched the older man down the glass in one gulp. There was no turning back to what was doing. The very thing he had kept from his parents was unraveling whether they knew and given that his father had come to scare him straight at the potential threat of the woman he took to bed at night, the jig was up.

"What nonsense are you going on about?" Of course in his father's eyes it didn't make sense. He had seen a few women in the years he claimed and in a few cases a few scandals to go along with those women.

"We kept things casual for the bulk of it." Casually confusing.

"How?" His father just stared at him in shock. Maybe his father was shocked he could keep things quiet for so long.

"How what? How casual? How for so many years? How is she a muggleborn? How did I manage to not tell you?" The list of questions his father could ask was long and the list of answers he had was short.

"Why would you not tell anyone?" His father had already started working out the years of lost potential. The potential years of Draco flaunting a muggleborn girlfriend as a reputation shield for the family and work. The few of many reasons he never told his father about Jean.

Draco ran through his mind for an answer.

Running a hand through his hair, he saw his father refill their empty respective glasses.

"Because I don't know who she is." It was as concise an answer as he could give.

"What?" His father's new confusion was enough for him to down a good portion of his newly refreshed drink.

"She glamours herself. Been that way from the first time I met her. Said it was because of the war, kept her safe when she was out in public." He knew now it wasn't safe enough.

He saw it click in his father's head. "You still don't know who she is to this day."

There was suspicion in his father's voice.

"Yeah." Draco resigned himself to the speech that was to come. His own omission of the truth from his parents had their own consequences and he had always thought he would be more informed and more prepared for when he had to face those consequences.

"Are you sure she's safe?" Safe in public or safe for him? He dreaded to know.

"If you're worried she has an agenda, it's unlikely." Ten and something years was too long for anyone to follow through on revenge. Of which, he was sure no one in his family every crossed anyone to the point of being so dedicated to take so long to exact revenge.

"Ten years Draco?" His father's shock of the length was coming through.

"Don't worry, the gravity isn't lost on me." He knew that in some ways, he wasted years letting things be when he could have tried for more, with or without her.

"Ten years with some 'muggleborn' who you haven't a clue about? Some woman you share some part of her double life?" He could see his father pull out his wand.

"What are you doing?" He knew he made a mistake telling his father but he needed to know what the man was planning.

"Checking to see if she's done anything to your place. She leads a double life for a reason and I rather know now if she is remotely harmless, muggleborn or not." With a few moves and checks, his father stopped as quickly as he started.

"Father?" He saw the frown get worse. He had never seen his father look so shaken, not even when face to face with Voldemort, broken he had seen before but not so disturbed.

"Who the hell have you been seeing Draco?" There was a hint of something he wasn't familiar with. Draco was prepared for disappointment and some mightier than thou tone that would try to reduce him to a toddler but not what he heard. He felt like he had announced support for Voldemort's third coming.

"Why?" Whatever his father found, it had disturbed the older man. If his father was going to lash out, he didn't want to know what his father might do to her. All he wants to know if he should tell her to run and keep going.

"She's dangerous, that's why." From his father's rediscovered angered tone, it sounded like his father thought Jean as some assassin again.

"Oh?" What could his father discover that was so dangerous? He was use to her being quick to draw her wand if she thought there was danger, real or not. He was use to not going out in the magical community as she didn't like a knowing public for fear of something figuring out who she was. All of which was her fearing others, not the other way around.

"First off, she was definitely a member of the Order." The very people his family switched to in the end. The ones that eventually kept their family from being sent to Azkaban en masse.

"How could you know that?" Already his father knew more than he did. What had taken Draco months to get from Jean, his father got with just a few wand movements and a short conversation.

"She's placed wards on your flat." His father gave a slight shake of his head. "I've only see these wards used for certain Order members, except these are stronger. They've been altered, I can't determine the true nature of the wards but they are stronger for something."

"Oh." That only reinforced any and all reason why she kept herself glamoured.

"The question is why would any Order member still use them to this day?" A good question indeed.

"I don't know father." Not a damned clue. "Do you remember anyone who might be a healer, trained or not?" It was a long shot but he had to know if there was a hint he could use.

There was a deep pondering moment before his father looked at him. "They're all either dead, too old or very much not her."

In the span of an hour, his father had gone from calling Jean a threat to the ball of mystery she was.

"So you know nothing like me." He raised his glass to that and gulped down the glass before refilling.

"What I do know is that there is a short list of important Order members who had wards like theses used on them and a select few outside of them who were trained for such. Not to mention that there is a short list of members who became healers after the war as well as those they relied on who became healers by experience alone and the list is shorter for muggleborns."

That piqued his interest. "Oh?"

"Your mother does sit on the charitable board of St. Mungo's and our family does contribute a great deal to the institution." Of course his parents would know. They didn't throw money around on a whim, at least not anymore.

"And the list?" He had to know so he could either accept the limits of his father's knowledge or realize the answer had laid with his father the whole time.

"Melinda Davies, Helen Clarke, Rose Taylor and Hermione Granger." He only recognized one name. "From what I remembered Davies and Clarke helped Madame Pomfrey a great deal with the casualties at Hogwarts and Taylor did most her work on the continent. Granger I can only assume did whatever it was the Order needed her to do so it would stand to reason healing might have been in that given she spent most of the war with Potter."

"How many might have gone to Hogwarts the same time I did?" Either the answers would lead him to the impossible or he knew less than he could have.

"All of them." Damn.

"All muggleborns, all Order members and all qualified healers now." He gulped down his drink before refilling his glass. "Great." The only one he knew from memory was Granger and the rest was a blur he was sure he wouldn't recognize.

"Draco?"

"She was attacked last month." He wanted to tell someone. If anything, he could only hope his father could understand. "Some muggle attacked a fundraiser she went to. She got treated at a muggle hospital before they could get her to St. Mungo's." Would that even narrow down the list?

"Draco?" He could hope that was a detail his father could use to find the answer.

"I want to know father. I spent this whole time not knowing because it was fine. She was fine and I didn't ask because asking meant I could lose her. Now, I can't not worry that not knowing means I could lose her that much more easily. My mind can't fathom what enemies she might still have from the war and now, I can't trust her to be among muggles. Their weapons are just as deadly as any curse, can you tell me how to stop a bullet or a damn bomb?" Things he knew he hadn't a way to stop, magical or not.

"Draco, if I find out, there is no way for me to not know." Lucius might have been angry and disappointed but he didn't miss that his son was giving away a very heavily guarded secret.

Draco knew that the very detail of a muggle attack on a witch was distinct. It would either narrow down the list to one person or produce a new list. If anything, the very nature of how Jean had been handled sounded unique in and of itself.

"Just know for me." Someone he knew had to know. "I don't need to know just yet, I'm still working on that. But I need someone I trust to know."

If it was bad, his father wouldn't hesitate to tell him regardless of his request but if she was truly going to be fine leading a double life with him then he would be able to worry a little less.

"Son?"

"I don't need a name, for now Jean Lagrange will do. I just need a reason to stop thinking how if things were different." If he had known, maybe she wouldn't have been alone that night. Maybe she would've been with him somewhere else that night.

"Very well."

Maybe he could look at her scar without remember why he disliked people and for her, muggles. He didn't survive a war and date her to have muggles go after her. He could understand if it was a pureblood, he understood purebloods and had it been one, he would have known how to exact his own revenge in a way that would give him peace of mind. With muggles, Draco could only let his mind wander down the path that made him think of how right Death Eaters were in dealing with the enemy.


	13. Chapter 12

Well the good news is that my travelling for the holidays is done and I finished Standing In (that is till I find the energy to go back and actually go through all the bits I know I mess up on). The bad news is I was so loopy sick and jetlagged I've lost my phone along the way and that's just made me off my rockers. Oh wells, I'm just going to be very uncreative in my editing till I get over my mood.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 12**

"Lucius?" Narcissa was worried.

Her husband had come back from Draco's preoccupied and remained so for the last few days. Tomorrow as Christmas Eve and she didn't want their guests to think of it or what they would say or what excuse she could use.

"I'll be up soon." He was lost in thought and his drink was not neglected for it.

When it came to Draco, Lucius had quiet a few occasions in which his son's mistakes made him glad to only have one child. Lucius might had not always been the perfect father or perfect person, he liked to believe he was a man who followed his own path and followed through to learn from that path, mistakes and all. He had learned the value of family, honor, integrity, even let those values be twisted and manipulated to the advantage of a crazed madman who nearly wiped out the Malfoy family.

"Is something wrong with Draco?" They had an understanding. No matter what, Draco was important and there would be no secrets where Draco was concerned. What Narcissa wanted for Draco and what Lucius wanted for Draco were different and similar. They both wanted a happy son and for Lucius an heir first. For Lucius, he had let his son's amiable ways and relatively blemish free recent years stop him from thinking that anything was amiss. If anything, Lucius had thought he had finally done something right and molded a relatively suitable heir who would keep him from worrying about the family's future.

Now, given what Draco told him nights ago, Lucius was inclined to think that he should have followed Narcissa's goals for a happy son. Narcissa saw such a goal through life rather than work. She wanted a son who should have found a good witch years ago, even marry and start a family by now. Narcissa was continually pecking at the edge of how she felt the years had slipped by and she was not informed of any progress on that side of Draco's life. She thought it unacceptable and to some extent unhealthy that Draco wasn't looking and didn't want to look.

He laughed at that thought. Lucius knew better now.

She heard the bitterness in his laugh.

"Ten years Narcissa." There was a bite in his words. He was use to Draco hiding juvenile secrets, not actual guarded secrets. Part of him had wondered if one woman was the beginning and end of all of Draco's secrets.

"What?" Ten years of what? She was unaware of anything specific that they should be concerned of.

"I can't wrap my head around it. Even I can't see what it could be. I find myself thinking that one reason was enough but it doesn't justify ten years. Then I find another reason but even that one isn't any better." He nursed his drink then. The more he thought the more he saw it as a compounding problem that got worse with time as well. The only problem he didn't understand was why either his son or his son's girlfriend let it compound.

"Lucius?" He was scaring her and it was rightly so as he didn't know if he should just give up and be scared.

"Did you know?" Given that Lucius didn't go about looking too deeply into Draco's private life while Narcissa saw it as her only window into Draco's happiness. She would be the only one of them that might know.

"Know what?" She was sure she didn't have a clue to what Lucius was asking.

"He's been seeing her for ten years." Lucius mentally amended that it was going to be eleven soon. Not only was his son sneaky and cunning, he was able to keep a secret for so long without either of them having an inkling.

"Who?" She didn't understand. The hopeful side of her, the one that had always wanted for Draco to settle down and stop focusing on work, felt happily betrayed but didn't run with the hope.

"Was there anyone you remember?" He wasn't making sense and she didn't like it. "Draco, did he ever tell you? Ten years and we didn't know. How the hell do we not know our son was seeing her for ten years? How the hell does he come here and not mention her? Either she's so good that he can't bring himself to say or he's so desperate he won't."

She moved to his desk to reach out for him.

"The worst part is if he asked, I don't think I can tell him." Lucius couldn't piece it together. He could remember the woman who ran it into him days ago but it just didn't make sense. Nothing about her connected to Granger. The times Lucius had met Granger at St. Mungo's, the young witch was professional and made no move to be anything but appropriate. Not a single word or action that made her distinct in her history with the Malfoy family or Draco.

"What happened Lucius?" She was on edge. She didn't know how bad it could be. The last time Lucius had a problem with Draco's personal life, it was plastered for all to read by Skeeter. For that, Narcissa had discreetly ensured the gossipmonger was now inconveniently turned away from any of the places the family frequented.

"Our son's girlfriend." He couldn't see how it fit. Regardless of what Lucius could remember, what he knew said that nothing about Granger sounded like she was someone Draco was seeing. On paper, Granger lived a life where Draco and she had never intersected after Hogwarts. At most, both of them might have been at the same function once or twice but not together or with the same circles.

Connections aside, Draco's taste as a whole did not lean towards Granger. The women Lucius remembered Draco favoring were the kind who were likely to be vying to be the next bearer of the Malfoy family jewels. Granger didn't on paper appear to have predisposition to wanting such a life goal. She looked to be the kind that was married to her job and liked it that way. Short of Draco needing medical care, she wouldn't have anything to do with Draco and unless it was a duty of her job, she didn't go seeking the Malfoys. There was just no trail to show she had ever a link to Draco since the war and finishing school.

It boggled Lucius' mind that both his son and Granger could pull of such a secret so well.

For who Narcissa hadn't heard the term girlfriend in some time, she knew better than to get her hopes up. She had asked to see Draco's flat for the very sake of knowing if Draco might by some luck, hiding a woman from his parents. She was a hopeful mother who took every chance to snoop in on her son, looking for some telltale sign that a woman had been by. Every few months, when there was a holiday or seasonal change or something she could use as an excuse to wander through Draco's place to give it a through once over, she would do so. She always kept a keen eye to see if someone else had ever given Draco's flat a more homely settled environment. Narcissa had been disappointed every time and now Lucius was telling her that while there were no signs, there was a woman. No matter how desperate Narcissa had been for Draco to have someone, she would not take Lucius' word as proof to what she didn't see.

She would admit that she did see few things out place, she couldn't place her hopes on trivial things like muggle coffee and tea on his kitchen counter or the addition of takeaway menus neatly piled by the fridge. Her son lived too close to muggles and for that, she had assumed it was the hazard of where he lived, not who he saw.

Before she could ask for more, Lucius handed her a letter.

He wasn't in the habit of sharing his correspondences with her. Most were business related and she had little interest. Anything she might like to know of his affairs, he just told her outright to save them the waste of time potential conflicting interpretations.

For him to simply hand it off, it was bad.

_Lucius,_

_In regards to your letter, I'm quiet shocked you knew. Healer Granger is the only person on staff that was there and while I could pass on your request as to what has happened since, I doubt she could be of help. It might be best to speak to the Aurors who handled the situation. At this time we have Healer Granger on light duty as to accommodate any potential risk to her injuries. If I come across the contact details later for the coordinator of the event, I will let you know._

_Regards,_

_Elias_

"I don't understand." Aside from some incident, it didn't hold weight to why Lucius was being odd.

"Our son has been seeing a woman and she was attacked recently by muggles."

Narcissa didn't hold back the look of disgust of something so unseemly as well as the fact that muggles were involved.

Lucius didn't stop her train of thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen him so set on something Narcissa. I could hear his mind practically scream to hurt the people who hurt her but given that she is fine and well, it does change things."

He was going to say it because in his mind, he couldn't. "Hermione Granger is under some impression that she has to see him in secret. From what he's told me, it's not that she won't see him, it's that she glamours herself when she does. He only knows her alias, Jean Lagrange."

It was the punch Narcissa knew was coming. It wasn't particularly strong but it was lasting. She knew of one Healer Granger at St. Mungo's via Elias Syned and there was no way to deny that she was Hermione Granger. While Narcissa hadn't followed Granger's life after the war, she knew bits and pieces and it lacked substance to what Lucius was telling her. She could only sit down to process the ways any of it made sense.

"How? Why?" She couldn't warp all Lucius said in context. She knew she heard him specifically say years earlier. "What?"

The wind was knocked out of her.

Hermione Granger and her friends were among the ones who helped keep their family intact as well as out of Azkaban. The last time she had spent any extended time with the girl was ages ago after the war had just ended.

Brief encounters of civility was all Narcissa could remember. At most, she saw the girl in passing a few times but nothing of substance. All her hopes of a future Mrs. Malfoy for her son felt squashed.

Then it hit her.

"We'll go to St. Mungo's Boxing Day benefit dinner." They didn't always go and a few times Draco was sent to go alone. If Granger had any relations with her son, she would check and from what she knew, Granger would be there. She had to be.

Lucius nodded. He doubted there was anything Narcissa could do to make the confusion worse. Confrontation or not, one more day of knowing, one more event where something or nothing happened wouldn't change the confusion to clarity.

* * *

Draco had wanted to ask her to come home with him. Each year he let his mind wonder if it might be so bad to slip her into his family's parties. There were usually too many people in attendance and one more person certainly wouldn't be a problem. Then he stopped himself, there were mostly purebloods and business associates and their families at the party. This year, he didn't let the thought get far.

He didn't ask for details about how she knew his father.

When she came back that night laden with her shopping, he wasn't sure how to bring it up.

_He watched as she did the dishes by hand. She did the things the muggle way out of habit and as a way to keep herself occupied._

"_About earlier." He was on the fence to tell her that he would drop it._

_Her shoulder slumped at that before she turned off the faucet and turned to him. He didn't dare continue as she stared at him so intently._

"_I have history with your father." He knew his father was a tainted man. "There are things he's done directly and indirectly to me and in turn the same can be said of me."_

"_Oh god." He couldn't hold it back as his mind screamed at what might have happened. The unspeakable things he thought of doing to her aggressors, he might have learned with her as the example._

"_That doesn't count what he's done to people I know and people I consider family."_

_His grip on the plate he had in hand was nearing a breaking point._

"_I'm fine." She said before coming up to him to pry the plate from him before brushing her lips to his cheek. "At the time everyone was doing what they thought was the right thing."_

_She was excusing his father, it was her own way of trying to downplay what she might have done, she umbrellaed herself with his father._

"_Jean." He found himself grateful both his father and Jean were alive but that didn't explain anything._

"_Let me finish up here. I was thinking of making some tea before getting to wrapping gifts."_

_He forced himself to be numb to the fact that she wrote it all off._

_Either his father did something terrible to her or she did something worse to his father._

_He didn't know which he preferred._

He still didn't know what he wished for. He tried to pick which would be the lesser evil of the choices and in the end, it just nothing stuck as a clear choice.

His father didn't speak to him about Jean since that day. There was no outstanding request from his parents for him to bring her for the holidays. He could only assume his father had kept their conversation private even within the family.

He wanted to let it be that maybe his father didn't and couldn't solve the mystery of who she was. The worse way to run was that his father wouldn't do anything because it was too far fetched to be given any credence.

So he let it be, he tried and if he pushed anymore without a solution, he would go crazy that much sooner.

So, he followed through with their early Christmas dinner.

He took her out to some restaurant she mentioned wanting to go to. She would be with her family for a few days and acknowledge that he was required at the manor. She didn't mention for him to stop by to meet anyone she knew and didn't ask to join him at the manor.

Looking over the table to her empty seat, he didn't know if he could do this next Christmas. Another year had passed them and while there were parts of the year that was considerably better than before, the more he knew about her the less he knew in his mind they could survive as they were. It wasn't the casual elements of their relations he lost faith in, it was the nature of living with their secrets.

She had left to check her appearance and he had taken the liberty of ordering dessert for them. It would be the last night they would have dinner for a few days at least and he wanted to make the best of it. The window of good memories with her was closing with time and each one they made were precious to him.

"Sorry, it was hard to squeeze through everyone just to touch up." She looked beautiful to him, even before she left the table. Rising to pull the chair out for her, he tried to not look sadly at the face before him. There was a light coating of makeup and for the life of him, he didn't know if he could live knowing that the face he saw now was really the face of one of his father's victims.

"It's fine."

She saw his mind running away with him.

He pushed the box to her side of the table. He had placed it there when she left and now, it was his way to keep from spoiling the decent night they had.

"Draco?" She shot him a knowing smirk that came from years of absorbing his mannerisms.

He rarely gave her jewelry and this was one time he couldn't resist.

"You'll like it." She had mentioned to him earlier in the year that she had to return her mother's pearls on her way back from one of their trips. It dawned on him how little he spent on jewelry for her. Ten years and somehow she was still some girl who ran home to her mother for jewels. For her, jewelry was not a must in life and as such, she did not keep any sense of a collection. He understood such reasons in the beginning as she was a student through and through but given that she was an adult now and past that frugal stage in life, borrowing jewels seemed out of place.

Regardless of her seeing him, it just didn't sit well with him unless he rectified it somehow. It wasn't simply the quality or quantity of jewels he could've given her but the very nature that she had to borrow.

She lightly tore at the side of the wrapping before giving him a questioning look.

"Just open it." He knew he couldn't give her full access to the Malfoy family jewels and she wouldn't ever take such an offer but to add to her own meager collection was something.

She did as he instructed and tore haphazardly at the thin box.

It was a simple set of pearls that would put her mother's to shame. He knew he couldn't get her anything overtly obvious but he made sure that it was simple so she could be fooled in believing he didn't over do anything. He made sure it was the best he could give without her telling him to return the thing.

"Draco." He watched as her face relaxed to a silly grin. "This is too much."

He rolled his eyes at her before getting up to put the necklace on her.

"You don't let me pay for most of the movies, you're usually the one who ends up picking up takeaway when I'm the one who suggests it, not to mention I felt like getting this for you so tough it."

She pulled him down by his tie to give him a kiss.

"Alright." She let her hands linger over the half empty box then, the tips of her nails barely touching the bracelet. "I didn't know we were doing gifts tonight."

"Well, you'll have to make it up to me later then." He gave her a peck on the cheek before sitting in time for their dessert to be placed on the table.

"Maybe." She brushed her foot up his calf before stopping when the plate was place down between them.

She was happy and they were having a good night and he loathed to think of all the negatives of their history. For one more night, he would ignore what was wrong and enjoy what was right.


	14. Chapter 13

AN: I've spent the last few days having the document manger eat my uploads. So I'm taking the small victory that I can upload, edit and update while I can. Also on a note to the progression, I do plan on a happy ending to this story. Given that the bulk of Hermione and Draco's current relationship is on a shaky foundation, it's a long journey for them to fix what they never did or never did right in the first place. Thus, my brain is stuck on whether to scrap the current idea chapter 39 for something else. It's kind of sad that about every five chapters I write, one of them just squanders all my creative steam. Definitely going to be a long ride to current finish line of chapter 55 (of which I have a very cute idea of an ending that might be stolen for an earlier chapter).

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 13**

"You should come with us." Hermione looked up to see the reflection of Shelly coming into the kitchen with another set of dishes.

"I don't know." Aside from the obvious reasons why, she just wasn't that adventurous person anymore. Especially not the way Shelly was.

"Just think about it, it's not just Doug. April and Bobby are coming along as well." Basically Shelly's boyfriend, siblings and her.

Hermione shot her a forced smile.

"I just haven't done anything like this in so long." Years, a lifetime ago.

"Just think about it, we haven't seen you in too long." Shelly said before hearing her boyfriend Doug ask if she needed a hand.

"Maybe."

She and Shelly grew up together till the Abernathy family moved not too long before her Hogwarts years.

Shelly was younger than her by a year but had been the one to truly live life. Shelly was the mindset of can do attitude. She was usually the one to take Hermione out during her summer breaks. Camping alone in the local woods, sure. Convincing their parents that swimming with sharks was a good idea? Sure. Convincing the guy at the local car track to let them take one of the cars out for a spin around the course to celebrate Shelly's barely issued license? Sure.

Shelly was the adventurous one. Shelly learned life for sheer force of determination. Hermione learned life from force of circumstance and the need for the greater good.

Shelly had both a thirst for knowledge and life. It was why Shelly was trying to convince Hermione to join her for the new task. Climbing Snowdon for New Year's Eve. It wasn't the most dangerous or wild thing Shelly ever did or suggested but the effort required wasn't something Hermione knew she had.

Shelly thought it would be lovely to ring in the coming year atop Snowdon.

Hermione felt like a complete square when even her parents endorsed the idea. It was a sobering moment to know that she was too reserved and cautious even for her parents. They had been the ones who once lectured her about how she could've been hurt or whatnot when she and Shelly snuck out years ago for a concert.

Finishing up the dishes, she made her way back to the family room where everyone was ready to open gifts.

Letting Crookshanks nuzzle at her feet, she was glad the familiar didn't seem too unhappy for all her neglect. Had Hermione been sensible, she would've just brought Crookshanks to Draco's when she wasn't home but no, she left him home so she'd have an excuse to go home.

Jumping into her lap, he nuzzled her arm in an effort to be comfortable.

"My you've had him for quite a long while now, haven't you Hermione?" Turning to Shelly's mother, she nodded.

"Yes, since I was in school." A lifetime ago.

There opened the door to how times had changed.

She sat back as everyone spoke of what they missed from youth or things they couldn't correctly remember. She remembered her youth and did not want to dwell on it too much.

* * *

"Father?" The guests had left some time ago but rather than retire for the night, his father was in the study.

"Have a drink Draco." Looking over at the clock, he wasn't sure if he really needed another one.

"Sure." He poured himself a small shot.

"Would you like me to tell you why your mother and I are not angry that you're seeing a muggleborn?" Draco had wondered that since he told his father. The varied reasons kept him from speaking.

"Not particularly."

"Had it occur to you that you've known her prior to dating her?" He gave his father a look of annoyance. It was late and his father was choosing the worst time to hash over his choices in life.

"I know I went to Hogwarts with her." He had said as much the week prior and had run over his memories trying to remember Davies, Taylor and Clarke. Granger he clearly remembered enough to know he was best to look elsewhere. He hadn't much of a clue to the others and tried his hardest to put an image together before giving up.

"Do you love her Draco?" Lucius considered it a valid question given the years that had passed. There was some obvious attachment between the two but how far that attachment could go was a deeper problem.

"I guess." They both knew that was just the tip of it. "Why?"

"Either you want to know who she is because you want a future or you want to end it completely." Draco watched his father swirl a drink before taking a sip.

"I guess that might hinge on who she is." Draco had to accept that there was a chance that Jean was someone so shocking that he wouldn't recover from.

"Don't lie Draco." His father saw right through him.

"I guess it depends on if she sees a future with me." That was the crushing part, if she would ever trust him enough for them to truly have a life together. "So you know who she is then?"

"I know details, I don't know for certainty. I won't confront her if that is what you're asking and given the circumstances, it would parallel too much if I did." Lucius did not miss the absurdity of it all. His son was dating the woman who had a hand in outing him as a Death Eater. Now, it was Lucius who all but knew for a fact that Jean Lagrange was Hermione Granger. A secret life for a secret life.

"Father?" Draco was worried at that.

"If you want to confront her, do so." With that, Lucius pushed over the invitation to St. Mungo's Boxing Day dinner. "She should be there."

Draco looked down at the invitation.

"How will I know it's her?" He looked upon his father with dread.

"She'll be the last person you'll expect." With that his father gave a slight chuckle. "It didn't occur to me till afterwards why she used so many spells to hide herself. She's done a good job of hiding so little and so much it's almost Slytherin like."

"Father?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to confront her at such a public event.

"You know Jean and she knows you but neither of you know each other as you truly are." Lucius hated secret identities, they wreaked havoc on one's perception.

He had spent years after the war wondering if Severus was ever truly his friend. There were days he knew for a fact Snape was a lying traitorous bastard who didn't care who he used. Then he realized the man who was godfather to Draco and looked out for the boy at Hogwarts was his most trusted friend. The flashes of doubt still came once in a while.

* * *

Draco had come to the benefit with his parents. His father saw it as business dinner and regardless of the personal element for the night, it was left in Draco's hand what to do next. His mother had taken him aside before they left to wish him luck and already he knew it was bad. Whoever it was, his parents knew her and for their own reasons, they were leaving it to him to make the real first move. Given the limited history he might have had with his list of candidates, it was clear that there was at least a singular damned good reason for his parents to not exert their influence.

He felt the courage leave him once he made his way through the masses. Having talked to both Davies and Taylor, not only was Davies with someone but Davies had a child. There was no break in his relationship with Jean for a child to be born and at no point did Jean appear to be pregnant. At least he hoped Jean wasn't that good with her glamours. In the case of Taylor, she had only been on staff within the last year and lacked the dedication to work that Jean had. He was dreading what was left.

He felt words of Sherlock Holmes run through his head. Draco had already crossed off two cases of impossible and that left one mystery and one improbable.

"Draco." Looking to his left, he saw Theodore Nott wave him over.

Taking another drink from table he was lingering at, he joined Nott.

He had spoken to the former classmate the night before and knew that the man was now an Auror and was on speaking terms with the Potters. Of which, Nott was next to the female half.

"Nott." He nodded to before acknowledging Ginny Potter.

"Didn't think you'd come to this thing." Nott was right, Draco wasn't in the habit to go to benefits where his parents were already in attendance. One Malfoy was as good as another and he didn't like making time to be around those who were out for his attention for the sake of power or money unless he was already willing to give.

"Father had a good argument for my presence." Jean was here. That was good enough.

"Does he ever have a bad one?" Ginny bit out. He couldn't blame her for not liking his father, he and his family did do terrible things to her and her family collectively.

"I haven't a clue."

She didn't push the point past that as Harry and Ron came closer, flanking their golden girl.

"Well if it isn't the dream team." He sneered just enough to get a rise out of them collectively for Granger to shot him an annoyed look before telling her guard dogs it wasn't worth it.

"Malfoy." She nodded at him as Harry stepped between Draco and Ginny.

"Granger." He nodded back before looking through the crowd for Clarke. Someone had mentioned to look for a brunette with blonde streaks, seems she was the only one with such a distinction.

"Don't you have somewhere else to make people annoyed?" Ron moved over to make more room between Draco and Hermione.

"Of course I do." He was looking for Clarke.

"Then shove off." Ron tossed to Draco as he continued to look for her.

"Looking for someone Draco?" At least Nott knew better.

"Yeah." Jean. "Just someone."

"Then go." Draco knew Weasley was getting more and more agitated with his extended lingering but he wasn't going to wander aimlessly looking for Clarke.

"You wouldn't know where Helen Clarke would be, would you?" Maybe Nott knew her. He was an Auror and given the length of injuries the job gave, he might know.

"Why are you looking for Clarke?" Granger looked up at him then. He didn't read too much into her words. Despite the years, he was still the Syltherin who was to be treated with suspicion.

"It's personal, between me and her." He didn't need Granger jumping in the way of his affairs.

"She was talking to your parents a few minutes ago." Potter pointed some direction to his left.

Draco thanked him before making his way.

"Any word on the Clarke situation? Heard they're having a piss time trying to adopt the kid." He barely registered Ron's commentary.

Impossible and improbable.

By the time he caught up to his parents and Clarke, he knew that Clarke was very much on the impossible list.

He spent a lengthy agonizing conversation knowing that the first three he spoke to were too much improbable to there be room for impossible.

Davies was once married with a child who was born the year he met Jean. She had been married out of Hogwarts as well.

Taylor was only at Hogwarts for half of her magical education. She left for Beauxbatons for the later half of her education and returned to England in the last year of the war. It would stand to reason if Taylor was Jean as Lagrange French in origin but the years she was away from Hogwarts didn't correlate with the fact that Jean knew too much of his years of Hogwarts.

Clarke was the most impossible of the list. Clarke preferred witches and had a committed partner the last few years. Not only that but they were in the mist of a very nasty and bitter attempt to adopt her partner's nephew who was recently orphaned. It seemed the ministry and muggle government frowned on the adoption of muggles to magical guardians.

The only person left was both impossible and improbable.

From his vantage point after speaking with Clarke, he watched Granger.

She fit all the criteria he gave his father but he had crossed her off the list from the start for a great many reasons.

She might have gone to Hogwarts with him but he knew her past. She wasn't the type for him and him for her. She was more likely to go for her Gryffindor pals than him. She historically liked the kind of men who were more likely to be called sweet than the things she ever called him.

Even from their brief encounter earlier, he knew it couldn't be her.

Jean would reacted if cornered such as the time she ran into his father. She didn't display any sense of fear or worry being the same room as his father and didn't so much as flinch when his parents passed by her. She distinctly lived in a bubble that she was in control of and was still the fearless Gryffindor who kept control on her life. She didn't show any signs of needing or wanting to keep a double life or a secret of any kind.

While he could read into Granger telling her guard dogs he wasn't worth the public fight, that was more for the sake of where they were than any personal history with Granger.

On top of it all, he knew Granger could barely tolerate her boys' fixation on quidditch and saw how she and Ginny were quick to step aside when things turned to the sport. He had more than once given Jean lengthy replays of his outing with friends and she listened to it all without a complaint.

Jean was the kind that sat in his lap willingly and let him glorify the games where he knew Granger would sooner reach for something else to do than listen to something she had no interest in.

Jean was the one who got him season tickets for Falmouth Falcons a few years back. Granger wouldn't give him a gift that encouraged violent game play. Granger was more the type to lecture on the dangers of midair injuries and the hazards of the sport.

Then of course there was the very fact that Granger never gave him any indication of having past where they could have any future.

No, Granger was impossible and improbable.

His father was wrong.

Jean wasn't here.


	15. Chapter 14

AN: Just to prepare everyone, chapter 15 is very little Draco and Hermione and when you read chapter 16, I'm pretty sure I'll be a bit (or a lot) hated. So when those go out later this/next week and feel the need to pull at my hair because you wished for something happier, wait till chapter 22-23 and read in one go. Oh the things that I write when I don't want to make a jumpy story.

**Had Bell and Watson Not Tried**

**Chapter 14**

There were a lot of things Draco Malfoy missed in his lifetime.

He missed his chance in his teenage years to rebel against life, the world and his family like the spoiled broken child.

You don't get to rebel in a pureblood family when there was war on and to rebel against family was to have marked himself for death. The only way to rebel then was to change his family's personal beliefs at a time he hadn't fully formed his own.

He missed his chance to have a wild life after the war. He was sure he had been on his way to leading a life of drunken debauchery only to wake up too late to realize life passed him by.

He knew he had let that time passed when he met Jean. Sure he called it rebellious to see her, she was the muggleborn embodiment of the things the war proved. Blood didn't matter.

He missed the chance to make a relationship of substance and silly future goals like a house in the country and children when he didn't push for her true identity at the start. He started with the fact that she was good looking and humored him within reason. She didn't ask for much of him and gave him just enough of what he wanted. Easy and hassle free as long as he didn't rock the boat. So, he stuck around because her ease made it easy to have a good time without it being too good that it was regrettable. When he stopped to think that something more was a good idea, he realized he traded that chance for a good time.

So it stood to reason Draco would continue to miss a great deal more.

That was how he missed the sign to crash his acceptance of what was both impossible and improbable wasn't so.

He had left his parents and made his way to a darkened corner to send Jean a message that he would be back at the flat early and he hoped to see her soon. He had failed in discovering her and was edging to give up for the night. It was better to have Jean than be lost chasing after her real identity.

Had Draco not slipped out from the benefit quickly after that, had he lingered and mingled, he would have for once not missed something life changing.

Had Draco gone back to the party and mingled among the masses, he might likely have struck up a conversation with Nott. Draco might have even caught part of the conversation about how the Halloween attack in Manchester was a strong case for the R&D department to ramp up ways for both Aurors and the rest of the magical world to find ways to protect themselves from muggle devices of terror.

Had Draco stayed, he would've heard Ron and Harry fuss that Hermione was lucky she wasn't hurt worse in the blast.

Had Draco stayed, he might have caught parts of the conversation on how Hermione was to be dragged out with her muggle friends to some last minute trek up a damn mountain.

Had Draco stayed, he might have noticed when Hermione said she was stepping out to check her messages on her mobile.

Had Draco stayed, he might have noticed when she sent a reply, he was the one that instantly received a message from Jean.

No, Draco was a man who had a few missed chances in life that might have changed how he became who he was as a whole.

Instead, he went home early feeling like he had been lied to and the part of his life he let lie to him was eating away at him. He wouldn't and couldn't claim himself to be an innocent victim as he let the problem perpetuate over the years. Nonetheless, he still was a victim of his own ways.

If anything, the night only reinforced that Jean was either a liar to him or a liar to herself, of which he knew which was true but that was a different problem.

His current problem of the night was that there was no way any of the women his father listed was Jean. If it had truly been any one of them, he was in deeper than he thought possible and in worse ways imaginable.

_Did you get my gift?_

He hadn't seen her since the morning after they went out for dinner. As far as he knew, Jean had been with family the last few days but she never gave him any indication when she would be headed home.

Looking at the box on the bed, he had to laugh at the absurdity of his life.

He had started the night crossing off the known impossible only to look at his gift wondering if he could ever convince himself that impossible was very possible.

Pulling away at the silver wrapping, he was met with a book. Pulling off the card, the looked over the neat script of her writing.

_Turn it over and jump to the end._

_I dread to think if this will last you till I get back._

_ -Jean_

Doing as instructed, the back of the book was false. A small compartment met his eyes. Jean had gotten him an assortment of both magical and muggle candies. She knew he had a sweet tooth that came in waves of cravings. She had mentioned more than once he needed to stop pilfering the stash she kept in the kitchen as they were hers and his cravings emptied the lot more often than not.

Looking over the new note inside, he wondered if the writing was even her own or if she disguised that as well.

_Something you can keep in plain sight._

Looking over the card and the contents of the book, he knew that despite not talking much with Granger, he was correct in what he knew. No, Granger couldn't have gotten him a box of candies knowing he had little self control with her sweets. Granger's parents were in some profession dealing with teeth or something like that. Pulling out his mobile, he sent her a message hoping to encourage Jean to come back early.

_Come back now and I'll share._

_

* * *

_Draco didn't share.

She didn't come back that night.

She didn't come back the next day either.

He didn't go frantic when she didn't come by the day after but he did start to wonder. She had promised that she would be staying at her parents for a bit as well as seeing old friends so he had to reason that if anything, she was around people who would look out for her.

_Plans for this weekend?_

Neither had mentioned plans for New Years and he half fancied giving her the last kiss of the year before giving her the first of the New Year.

She didn't respond till late that evening.

_Working on it. Going with some old family friends._

He didn't like knowing she was away from him and it showed.

Blaise even made some joke about how he must have gotten lumps of coal in his stocking. He was just socially useless at work but at least Draco knew she was fine. He just wanted her to come back so he could see for sure.

She was with the rest of her life, the life where he didn't exist.

Despite the loathsome feeling of being left behind in her life, he was more than happy when he woke up New Years day to find her in his bed.

Given that he had gone to the Zabini's party and didn't get in well into the morning, he could guess she came in recently.

A few of her things littered the floor and she didn't even bother to crawl under the covers.

Turning to reach for his wand to remove some of the layers she had neglected to take off, he settled her into bed before burrowing into the covers with her.

Lightly kissing her cheek, he would wait till she woke to collect a proper first kiss of the year.

Draco had woken midday to make coffee before realizing he didn't feel like going anywhere and coffee defeated the purpose of not caring.

Of course he was enjoying his second cup when Jean drifted into the kitchen. She lazily wrapped her arms around him to give him a peck on the cheek before yawning her way to the coffee pot.

She was still half asleep and moving about on autopilot. Letting her be, he watched as she poured herself a cup and grabbed some yogurt out of the fridge. A few test sips to make sure her coffee wasn't too hot and she would take a few gulps before adding cream and sugar.

She never added anything till after tasting. She usually took her coffee black till she couldn't any tolerate it plain.

"Morning." Her voice still heavy with exhaustion as she let out another yawn that he mimicked.

"Afternoon." He said back, watching her. He had woken up relatively happy but he knew a he was a bit guilt ridden. While he had started the holiday feeling entitled to the truth, he knew that for the sake of trust and consideration, he should have just asked her. The problem in it all was that he knew beforehand asking her directly was not an option that she would be receptive to. Whatever reasonable motive he might have had, it didn't mean that his actions were right. Then again, much of the same could be applied to her in how they dynamic came to be.

His mind reminded him that for the holidays, he had gone investigating into the woman who just woke from his bed. Of course in the grand scheme of things, she was suppose to be the guilty party as he was only looking after his interest.

That was the problem, it was his interest he was looking after. No matter how many ways he could tell her it was for their relationship, he knew that he had done it all based on his own reasons and little regard for how it would impact her.

She turned from her search for a spoon to look past him to the window to see the day had slipped past them.

"I guess it is." She shrugged before sitting down across from him. After a scoop of her yogurt, she was up again to reach for the chocolate chips she kept in the pantry before adding a small handful to the cup.

"Healthy meal there." He didn't understand her sometimes. She would get yogurt because it was a good strong quick snack but then add chocolate to it on any given day.

"Want some?" She took a spoonful before offering him the cup.

"No." He grinned at her. "I wouldn't want to get in the way of your odd relationship with your food."

She hmmed at him before letting her eyes wander about the room. She was taking stock of the place. He could see the wheels turning in her head. It was time to do the shopping again.

"I think I should tell you something." He hadn't any plans of how to delicately put it and with luck, she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

"Oh?" She didn't take much stock in his serious tone and he wanted to take that as a good sign.

"My father knows you." A common ground they established and a solid base to run with.

"I know." She said not really putting much into it either. "Just because the war ended doesn't mean people forget everything."

He scoffed at her logic. "I told him about you."

She stopped eating then to look up at him. It wasn't shock but she didn't look defensive either. She didn't automatically stop him from what he wanted to say and given that what he had done, it couldn't be undone, at most she could only be angry.

"So he gave me a list of people who you might be."

She stopped looking at him directly then.

"And?" She was breaking down, her calm accepting way was giving to the nervous woman who ran into his father weeks ago. She seemed to physically shrink into her chair then. If he didn't built things up carefully, she would become reactive with him feeling like a prat for trying to change things.

"And I talked to all of them over the holidays." He waited for some flicker of a sign she remembered talking to him.

"I see." He didn't see any tell, not a flinch of remembrance.

"Either my father is wrong or you're better at hiding than I thought." He didn't mask his regret, his disappoint that another year had started and he hadn't a clue.

"I see." He couldn't tell if her sad tone was for the fact that he searched for her or that he didn't find her.

"Of course," The part he didn't like. "I wanted to think if I found you, maybe things would be different, better."

Would she understand his view? Did she care?

If anything, all he wanted was for things to be better for them. They had gone through the years at just enough, never going anywhere, never reaching for more. All he wanted was a chance to know that somewhere in all there time, something greater could be had for them.

He waited for her to respond but she didn't.

Putting her breakfast down, she left the room.

Passive and not telling. They were things he was use to from her, it made him almost missed the days long ago where she yelled and lashed out at him.

He didn't have long to wait before she came back and put a camera in front of him. It was one of those muggle ones, he remembered seeing her with a different one a while back.

"I went hiking yesterday. Some childhood friends of mine wanted to go to Snowdon for New Years Eve." He turned the thing on to see a range of landscape pictures and images of people he was unfamiliar with. If she had been in any of them, she didn't say. "Fell and sprained my ankle on the way down but a few spells took care of it."

For good measure he looked down to her ankles to see the right one was still pink from the injury.

"You did see me over the holidays but we didn't really speak." He knew he hadn't gone to Snowdon but the vague range of the holidays meant that whether his father was right or wrong, he saw her. Of that, he didn't remember speaking to anyone that looked like the people in the pictures. "I can't keep asking you to not ask me, just like I can't keep forgetting the muggles in my life. Those people were once my friends when I was growing up. It's hard to live a life so segregated, even with magic."

There was two ways it could go. She could leave him or she would tell him.

"Jean?" He wanted change but he didn't want an ending.

"Why do you think your father is wrong?" Hermione needed to know where they stood.

"You don't prefer witches. I'm pretty sure you don't have children. You also didn't go to Beauxbaton. And without a doubt if you were Granger, this would be the most sadistic revenge plot ever. Not to mention, I can't figure how I could've ever caused her to hate me enough to weasel into my life for the last decade to mess with my mind like this."

"Oh." It was resigned and he heard it. Whatever she was planning, his words stopped it. He didn't know what he wanted to lose her to, a boyfriend, girlfriend, family or a past where he was sure neither had spoke a kind word of the other.

"If you were one of the four I talked to then you are either someone it is impossible for me to have or improbable. Not to mention in one instance, both." He didn't like knowing that he could lose her. It wasn't so much the losing part that got to him, it was the part where he didn't have a chance to stop it.

"I thought it was weird you were at the benefit that night." She was at the benefit and now they both knew but she didn't confirm talking to him.

"Jean?" He didn't like the finality of her tone, he could feel his heart scream at him. There was no joy in her voice and for what should be a dawning of the future, she sounded disappointed and resigned.

"I work tonight." She was mulling over the breakfast she had abandoned earlier. "I can't say that once you know I will give my life up. I have friends and family and people who I care about and people who care about me that are outside of you."

He knew she was being logical but he really didn't like the way she sounded. "If you tell me that knowing won't mean I lose you then I don't care what I'll find out."

Draco needed hope. It was an ending conversation and he needed to know that what was ending would be replaced with something better.

"Alright." She didn't sound any less fatal.

"Jean?" Her mind was plotting.

"I promised to dropping off those pictures with my friends today. You have no idea what it's like watching them live their lives so happy and carefree and know that your own life wasn't always so. You have no idea what it's like living in two worlds where one sees you as part of the good guys and then walk into another where no one knows that for a brief period that war might have spilled over to them." He could see the tears fight their way out but she blinked them away.

He didn't hesitate to cross the table to hold her.

For once in all their years, she flinched at his touch. This wasn't a flinch because of an injury or flinch out of shock. She was honestly scared.

"You might not be so willing to touch me if you knew." He could hear her clearly then. Whatever it is she thought he viewed her true self to be to him, she saw them at an impossible end.

"Would you leave me if I knew?" He wouldn't, it was a matter of her leaving that bothered him.

"Only if you ask me to." Her tears came through then. He didn't try to stop them. She was letting go and he would let her have her moment.


	16. Chapter 15

I know it's been a very long time and the remaining completed chapters has been sitting on the laptop waiting to be edited. Sadly I never got much time to editing the mistakes and flubs. I had an unrealistic idea of how I would manage writing this and as I fell behind finishing the last 10 chapters, I just walked away to reprioritize and it was unfair to the readers so my new goal is a bit more realistic in getting a chapter or two out each month. For the loyal readers who have been waiting, I can at least promise my goal is a happy ending if not a slight silly one. This is unedited and very raw.

Chapter 15

She asked for a day.

She said she needed a day to get certain things together before he would know. She said she had things she would have to take care of.

So Draco accepted her terms. He nodded when she packed a few things away and left early that day.

He said he would wait for her to finish up to listen.

For once in his damned life he would prove he could be patient, for her.

Three days had past and she hadn't contacted him.

He didn't place much weight when it had been past twenty-four hours and she hadn't come back. He had to accept that she worked and maybe they kept her late or she needed to do things at work that took longer than necessary. It was a hazard of her job and while recently that wasn't the case, it was an occurrence in the past.

He went to sleep that night thinking she would be there when he woke.

When he got up and realized he was making coffee for one, he didn't throw a fit knowing that she left her coffee mug next to his before she left.

He came home from work thinking he would have dinner with her only to realize she hadn't come back yet either.

He went as far as to send her a message saying he was home that night only to not get a response.

So day three came and he was stuck between wondering if she was avoiding him, hurt or just never planning on coming back.

He knew he was capable of annoying her to no end on a few occasions and was met with her own retribution for it. He remembered the few times she passively didn't speak to him over dinner when he took too much liberty in ordering dinner for her. But this time, it was more important than just her right to order for herself.

He told himself he could wait another day. He told himself it was worth it if he had to wait another day. If anything, he told himself that she promised she would be back when she was done.

He didn't know if he truly believed it.

Hermione wasn't happy. She knew she wasn't happy when she stopped by to see Shelly on New Years day. She knew it showed when Shelly asked how her day had been and had commented that of course nothing could have happened in the span of hours. She grinned her way through Shelly's happy attitude of how perfect the year was despite it being just hours old. Her only escape from her childhood friend's assumptions was that the extended visit was making her late to work.

When the second of the month welcomed her in her own bed and Crookshanks nudging her for food, she obliged only to realize she had been in but a few hours before her familiar woke her up. She was glad that for once, she had a day off and called her parents to ask if the would mind her coming by for dinner as she had the night off.

That being established, she wanted to see Ginny to ease into the fact that she about to do something major. Having asked Draco for a temporary reprieve for her to handle things made her realize it was going from being handled to not at all.

Thus, she was in a park with Ginny as they watch Harry and the children burn up their energy while Ginny yelled out to Harry every few minutes of some random detail about one of the four children.

"Ginny." Hermione had place a hand on Ginny's arm to signal she needed a very important word with the woman. Despite Lily being the only girl amongst the boys, she joined into the trouble readily enough.

Ginny had stopped her observance of the kids to look and see that there was something truly amiss with Hermione. Years of knowing that Hermione taught the other woman that it whatever it was, it was important.

Usually Hermione would want to meet in a less sporadic scene. Dinner at the Potter house or out about town with a limited number of people around were the standard of Hermione's random bouts to meet up. For Hermione to show up so suddenly, something was up, something beyond Hermione.

"What is it?" She tried to give her friend an open space to speak but saw the cracks in Hermione's calm exterior. Public or private, something was wrong and it didn't matter the location.

"I think I've done something terrible." With each word, Hermione couldn't hold back the guilt that had washed over her.

"What happened?" Ginny didn't and couldn't imagine what might have been so bad that Hermione would sound so guilt ridden.

"The man I've been seeing." That struck a chord with Ginny. "He's asked me for the truth."

There were few things Ginny truly didn't like about Hermione. Ginny never liked that Hermione was driven to the point of neglecting personal happiness. Ginny didn't like that it was hard to contact the woman at a short notice. Ginny didn't like that Hermione lived alone and kept herself insulated from the world at large. There was a healthy fear of life but Ginny saw Hermione's fear as downright twisted and broken. It was how much Hermione was twisted and broken that Ginny really didn't like.

"Did he leave you?" Ginny knew that Hermione's relationship with the mystery man was unconventional and had always suspected that for such a thing to go on for so long, Hermione must have pushed for it.

The only thing worse was if the mystery man preferred it that way, if so than that man was a man she would more than let Harry step in to take care of. No matter how bad off Hermione was, anyone who took advantage of such a thing deserved to be put in their place.

"Not yet." That was the other thing she didn't like about Hermione. Ginny had know that when the fallout would come, Hermione would not be ready. The bubble that had encapsulated that relationship was most likely all Hermione's doing and regret was something she had expected of the older woman. It was regret for something they both knew would happen and yet Hermione was now sounding like an injured party.

"Can you blame him? No one deserves to be hidden that long." She didn't mask her disgust at the situation. "Obviously he cares a great deal more than you if he asks."

While Hermione had been set to only speak to Ginny and was ready to end the conversation as Harry approached, Ginny wasn't.

"Don't tell me you came out because you feel jilted. Unless you plan to do something about it, then do it. I don't have it in me to feel bad for what you've done." Ginny continued despite Harry standing before them. In an odd way, Hermione couldn't finish processing that Ginny was feeling sympathy for Draco of all people.

"And what has Hermione done?" He no doubt caught the wrong parts and where Hermione was ready to brush it off, Ginny wasn't.

"Seems the guy she's been seeing finally manned up to ask for the truth and now she feels terrible." Ginny raised her hands at him with that and stalked off to Lily who was about to be the victim of one of the boys sneaking up on her.

Hermione had never talked to Harry much about who she dated, it was never a topic that really came up between the friends. A few times it was hinted at but they never really had an honest discussion on the topic and now she realized why.

"Ginny told you." Of course Ginny did, Harry was the husband and Hermione never told Ginny it was a secret.

"Can't say I like it but I know where she's coming from. What I could understand was the why." She watched as he ran his hand through his hair before turning to watch the children. Teddy was currently pushing James on the swings as Lily and Albus were running around.

"Habit." She knew it was a terrible and simplified answer but maybe he could grasp part of her meaning.

"Some habits aren't meant to be kept." He knew which habit she referred to.

"I know," Of course she knew. "I didn't mean to but you can't tell me that after the war things were perfect." It was hell.

Harry had been training as an Auror and the irony was that there was an Auror posted to keep an eye on him till they considered him safe.

Ron had been hexed a few times in public by stray sympathizers who claimed it was all in jest.

Hermione was lucky, going to stay with her parents was like going into hiding. Purebloods and the like didn't know the muggle world well enough and the ones that might were among Voldemort's ranks that had died or had been put away.

"Yeah well, if you were serious about him you should've told him then." For once Harry was lecturing her.

She laughed at that. "That's the thing, I wasn't. Neither of us were."

They had been out for a good time back then. Discovery of a relationship forming was like tripping over a crack and not even noticing.

"I doubt that." Of course Harry doubted that, his friend was the one who didn't waste time with silly life things. Silly things, yes. Life silly was different.

"It was fun being with him. I just thought that he would move on when the time came. Sort of that line where you stop being fun and start being serious. I mean as far as I knew, before me and with me, he didn't have any want to be serious." It was true, their dinner dates now might sound quaint but back then, they were in that crazed hot and heavy period.

"Really?" For once Harry didn't know if he knew what his friend was looking for.

"I mean he never asked, he said he didn't care and it didn't matter." Draco had said it on enough occasions that she didn't take stock that it might change. "I don't know why but this last year, he's changed."

She had seen him change too many times and knew this time was different, his masked attempts at extracting more information was now to the point of forceful. The worry he gave over her wasn't casual or simple. It was of attachment and care.

"Maybe he's been wanting more Hermione. Did you ever give him a chance?" Harry knew that when it came to Hermione, if she thought she was right, if she thought she was doing the right thing, she certainly never gave room for a chance without force.

"What if you don't like him?" That was the other problem. Her parents she could handle, they knew of Draco as a bothersome twat in her past. Her friends knew Draco as a Malfoy first and maybe a twat named Draco second.

"Do I know him?" Harry had plenty of time to think about the what ifs to Hermione's situation. He had settled to be forgiving and accepting when the time came.

"I know you won't like him." She feared hate was closer to the truth.

"Unless he's Voldemort's second… wait, third coming, I think I can manage." With that he put an arm around her. "He can't be too bad if he's managed to not royally piss you off or screw you up over the years."

"Oh?" She was worried Harry wouldn't live up to his promise.

"Way I figure, worse thing this guy has on him when it comes to you is that he's been a coward all these years letting you walk all over him on this." It wouldn't be a lie that Harry had called Draco a coward more than once and this would be another instance, but Hermione wouldn't tell him so.

"What if you knew he's called me and muggleborns mudblood?" It wasn't telling but it was an indicator of the man she was with.

She saw Harry hesitate on his words. "Recently?"

"When we were younger." Much much younger.

"I'm going to have to assume he's grown out of it or else I will be having a chat with him and then you." Harry sighed at that. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd go for a hopefully reformed pureblood."

Got to love the suspicious and through mind of an Auror. "So you'll be fine with it?"

"It could be Lucius fucking Malfoy and aside from the married bit, I'm sure I can be fine with it."

She gave a laugh. He was one degree off. "Joy but I draw the line at adultery."

He laughed at that. "I certainly hope so, you have enough on your plate as it is."

"Yeah, now to suss out Ron." Between the pair of boys she treated as brothers, Ron was the more likely to react without thought and Harry was the one who needed notice and short of disaster would mull before action.

"He knows." Harry threw it out to both shock and ease her worries.

"What?" It did shock her and Harry for once was able to have a silent laugh at her expense.

"Ever wonder why he stopped trying to ask you out?" No she didn't. "Ever thought it was weird how he went from hanging out with you on his off days to well… not?"

"God I've been a terrible person all these years." She never noticed.

"No, you just stopped thinking. Look, we're your friends. Good or bad, we're your friends." Then he made a face. "But yeah, just to clarify, he's not like gross old or something right? Or just gross?"

She laughed at that. "Only if I hex and curse him to be."


End file.
